The Shade in the Heart
by Rochelle Templer
Summary: *Co-written with Buttercups3* Sweets struggles with the loss of his fiance and his friends after the events in the Season Five finale. But he soon discovers that things are just as complicated when they return. *On hiatus*
1. Chapter 1

Authors' Note: The Season Five finale left Sweets in a difficult place since he lost both his fiance and most of his friends in one swift blow. Pondering this (and growing weary with waiting for the next season to start) the two of us decided to team up to write our own version of what happened during that missing time and what could happen in Season Six. Since this is a collaborative effort, there will be a blending of our two versions of canon. Also this is completely speculative and ignores most of the Season Six spoilers that have been revealed thus far.

We do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who read/follows/reviews this. :D

The Shade in the Heart—Chapter One

It was a grey night in Washington DC. Rain was drizzling from the clouds, which blocked out every trace of moonlight. Everyone was keeping their head down while they walked outside in an attempt to avoid the gloom and the ever thickening mist of rain.

But all of this seemed downright cheerful compared to the state of mind that Dr. Lance Sweets found himself in as he walked down the sidewalk.

He had just completed another grueling day at work and had decided to get some air on his way back to his apartment. The fact that it had started to sprinkle while he was walking had little effect on his mood one way or the other.

It had been seven months since Brennan, Booth, Hodgins and Angela had left the Jeffersonian to go off to different corners of the planet. Now in mid-November, with the holidays swiftly approaching, Sweets dreaded the impending increase in his loneliness. Although he still had a couple of his friends here, Sweets couldn't help but feel that something was missing with most of his family gone.

Compounding his misery was the fact that the woman he had planned to spend the rest of his life with, Daisy Wick, had also left, tossing him and their engagement aside so she could join a "once in a lifetime" project to further her career. He had held onto some brief flicker of hope that things could work out between them once she was done with her dig in Maluku. After all, she had left with his engagement ring on her finger. Even though he had encouraged her not to wait for him, Sweets couldn't help but consider the fact that Daisy seemed reluctant to close the door on their relationship.

But that ended about two weeks after she left, when Daisy sent him a letter with his mother's engagement ring inside.

In this letter Daisy not only expressed her delight at the new challenges and the opportunity for growth in her career, she also explained that returning the ring and officially ending the relationship was a necessary step in her own personal evolution.

'_Much like how Dr. Brennan had to let go of her ties to Agent Booth (no matter how pleasant they were) in order to join this important excavation __and to further advance her field, so must I let go of my dear Lancelot in order to truly develop in the footsteps of my mentor and idol. I'm sure you understand since you've already had your chance to advance in your field and wouldn't want to stifle my chance to advance in mine or to let me become the best person I can be.' _

While he had been grateful to get the ring back since she no longer was interested in spending her life with him, Sweets had spent the rest of the night in tears after receiving it. He knew that it represented the true end to their relationship.

Perhaps most painful of all was Daisy's implication that not only was his career already past its prime, but that a relationship with him would only limit her as a person. Growing up, Sweets had often worried that his parents had sacrificed a chance to fulfill their dream of a happy family complete with a child of their own by choosing to adopt him with all the issues and baggage that he brought to the relationship. Although his parents had pretty much erased that belief from his mind with their persistent love and with the numerous ways that they expressed their joy at having him as a son, Sweets still carried the fear that he was a burden to people deep within his heart. Daisy's proclamation that she was now free to become her best self struck a chord with those fears.

As the weeks went by and as the sharp pain this moment of finality brought forth began to level off, Sweets was finally able to realize that this breakup may have been building for a long time. Careful introspection revealed issues that were avoided, arguments that had no resolution and differences which Sweets had done his best to ignore.

Even these sorts of revelations held little comfort for him in the face of his current bleak existence. He remembered how he had cried just as hard when he realized that their love didn't really have a chance as he did on the day it actually ended. In the end, all he had avoided was a possible messy divorce.

Sweets shuddered at that. Growing up, he had seen how his classmates had to deal with their parents' divorces and it never seemed easy. He had been grateful that his parents' marriage was solid enough to ride out every difficulty that they faced. Even during the one or two rough patches that Sweets could remember, his parents always held a deep affection and love for each other. It was this sort of love that he was determined to find for himself, and he certainly did not want to put himself through the sort of turmoil that divorces could bring.

The psychologist finally arrived at his apartment, thoroughly chilled and not the least bit refreshed from his walk. He changed out of his work clothes and curled up onto the couch in a black sweater and black jeans. He then began to consider his options for the kinds of meals he could order for home delivery while glancing around the room.

While staring at a group of framed photographs of his family and some old friends, Sweets had an epiphany about what was causing his depression.

Lance Sweets did not miss Daisy Wick…he missed what she represented.

Sweets thought back to the week he proposed to Daisy. That subway accident had caused him to consider what was missing from his life and Sweets came to the conclusion that what he missed was the security of a family. Not that he didn't acknowledge and appreciate the one he had at the Jeffersonian, but none of them were tied to him by blood or marriage. Even after all this time, the psychologist worried that there was no real permanence in the bonds that he shared with all of them. When almost all of them decided at once to leave to pursue their own professional and personal journeys, this idea was driven home in a visceral way. As the realization hit that he would soon be without the people who had come to mean so much to him, Sweets was initially grateful that he had mustered up the courage to ask Daisy to become his wife since proposing to her had been an attempt to re-gain the same kind of anchor that his parents had given him.

But that anchor was shown to be warped and flimsy while Daisy related her plans to him. Despite his overwhelming need for her love to help him transition through this time of change, there was no way he could stop her from leaving…or bring himself to cast aside everything he had built with the assistance of his parents in order to follow her.

'_Why did I cling to her when I knew things were going wrong?'_ he wondered. _'Have I become that starved for affection? Have I become that…desperate?'_

Sweets shivered in his cozy apartment. This had been the third serious relationship in a row that had ended with the woman he was in love with walking out on him. He had agonized over what he was doing wrong numerous times and still could not find an answer. He had now reached the point where he began to believe that he was doomed to be alone for the rest of his life.

Sweets decided against dinner and instead pulled a quilt that was draped on the back of his couch over himself and laid down. He simply did not have the energy to drag himself into a room so that he would have to face yet another night of sleeping in his bed alone. After closing his eyes, Sweets felt a sudden push of pressure when his cat, Knox jumped onto the couch and curled up on his chest. The psychologist opened his eyes back up to see Knox staring at him.

"Mew?" the cat said in a rather plaintive and questioning cry. Sweets reached up and began petting his head.

"I guess it just going to be the two of us from now on," he said. "Better get used to it."

Knox began to purr encouragingly, but Sweets was having none of it, not tonight. He closed his eyes again and tried to think about his parents as a way to feel a little less alone.

He ended up dreaming about the night that his mother had given him her engagement ring, which was now sitting on the stand next to his bed. Sweets remembered every detail of that moment when his mother, Carolyn Sweets placed the box with the ring into his hand.

'_I want you to give it to the woman who will complete your life the way David completed mine,' _she had said_. _

Drifting between wakefulness and slumber, Sweets found that he was still able to weep.

'_I'm sorry, Mom…you should have kept your ring…I'm never going to be able to use it for what it was intended for.' _

_

* * *

_The next morning, Sweets woke up stiff and sore and only somewhat rested. While he had gotten some more of his feelings about Daisy out of his system, there was always the loneliness that came from missing his friends to fill any void left behind.

Still, Sweets found that he still valued his work and was grateful for the solace that it provided. Deep down, he knew that he had made the right decision to not walk away from his career when he considered how it gave him some sort of comfort knowing that he could still help others even if he couldn't completely heal himself. He went about with his morning chores, dressed for work and walked out, deciding to grab breakfast at the Royal Diner before heading off to the FBI's Hoover building.

Sweets still had patients to treat and cases to profile. For now, that would have to serve as his motivation to keep moving.


	2. Chapter 2

Authors' Note: Here is the next chapter...and by the way, for those who were curious, all the chapters of this fic will be posted to Rochelle Templer's account. So it will only appear once in the updates despite the fact that it is being written by the two of us.

We do not own Bones or any of its characters

Thank you as always to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**Black Forests**: Thank you for the review. :) We both felt that not enough attention was paid to Sweets' situation in the finale, thus the intro chapter. **Super Ario**: Glad to see you're back at least somewhat. We hope you will enjoy our latest works and updates and that you whip your laptop back into shape. ;) **Peanutmeg**: Glad you enjoyed, here's another update for you.** Mendenbar**: Thanks again for the review. The two of us are not entirely thrilled with some of the spoilers that we've seen, thus we decided to gleefully ignore them in this story. **Fear Herself**: Yes, Sweets fans unite! :D We hope you will enjoy the rest of this as well. **Whylime**: We completely agree with you. There just isn't enough Sweets-centric fanfic thus our desire to flood this site with our stories. And like you, we are also a bit concerned with how Sweets will be by the beginning of Season Six. *sigh* **SweetFavoriteThings**: Yes, we decided early on that we wanted to use our favorite parts from both of our versions of canon for this fic. Thus why both Knox and Carolyn Sweets are featured in the first chapter. :)

The Shade in the Heart-Chapter Two

Following a lackluster breakfast at the diner, Lance entered the FBI building and rode the elevator in glum silence. He lumbered past his secretary, murmuring, "Hello, Becky." Becky exchanged an eloquent glance with a coworker; everyone was worried about the transformation of the formerly jolly Dr. Sweets into this long-faced imitation. Sweets plunked down in his chair, saw that he had no messages, and began to fill out some paperwork with a heavy sigh.

Three hours later, Lance was staring vacantly at his email. The grim reality was that he hadn't received a single communication all day. He prayed for the friendly emboldening of inbox text that meant someone cared. Indeed, Lance was hoping for a communication from someone in particular, and incredibly, it wasn't Daisy Wick. It was Seeley Booth.

Like Pavlov's dog, every time Lance thought about Booth his gut wrenched with worry. It was natural to fear for a friend's safety in a dangerous war zone, and yet Booth was no normal human—he was a risk taker, a lion heart. Sweets felt that if he could just glimpse that toothy grin one more time, then maybe he'd consider abandoning his recent funk. Until then, he was staring resolutely at his inbox waiting to hear that Booth was ok. Lance vaguely observed that making silly deals with himself to abandon his depression wasn't a very promising coping technique.

After another few minutes of staring at his lifeless computer screen, Lance exchanged his morose reflections upon Booth for lamentations of Daisy. He missed the soft feel of her fingers laced through his. _'This is so unhealthy,'_ he realized, trying to muster concern as if he were his own patient. His head sank down onto his folded arms, and he wallowed in spite of himself.

Instead of an email, Lance's gchat popped open, catching his attention despite his bowed head. To his amazement, it was an old friend—Anjali Pillai—from London. She had been a psychology graduate student at Oxford when he'd been a Rhodes Scholar. Anji was one of those rare Dr. Brennan-esque combinations of staggering beauty—she appeared to have wandered straight out of Bollywood—and formidable brains. Lance grinned to himself. Anji was so far out of his league (in his opinion) that he had always been touched that she had befriended him, particularly during his awkward transition to life in a new culture. She hadn't even minded that he was significantly younger. Anji was now 33, Lance only 25.

"Anji?" Lance typed in response to her casual 'Hello.' Actually, he was surprised she was online. Anji eschewed the internet and technology in general.

"Hello, Lance! It's been years! How are you?" Somehow even her type exuded cheer and loveliness.

"Fine—waiting for someone to reach out to me from the void of cyberspace. Thanks for taking that on."

"Huh. I scoff at the internet! It merely encourages people to assert meaningless opinions with excessive ardor. Like: 'I love Coca Cola' with three exclamation points and a smiley face that looks like it swallowed a banana."

'_Same old Anji_,' Lance grinned to himself.

":D!" he responded, his fingers flying in a blur. Lance was a speedy typist. And he was positively thrilled for this distraction.

"Because you don't have the benefit of witnessing my eye rolling, let me explain my sudden foray onto gchat. I'm coming to Washington, D.C.—that's where you are now, yes?"

"Yes and yay! You're staying with me when you come, of course! What brings you here?" he typed enthusiastically.

"Thank you for the offer—I accept. I'm coming for the Symposium on Autism Spectrum Disorders (the 4-6th of June). How are your folks, Boy Genius?"

Lance had to think before responding to this. "They passed away, Anji." He sensed her disquiet in her own pause.

"I'm so sorry to hear that. I would make an unhappy face if it weren't trite. When I come to town, we'll get drunk, ok?"

Lance laughed a little though she couldn't hear. "Ok. How is Robert?" Robert was Anji's long-term partner—because every beautiful woman came equipped with a long-term partner.

"He's quite well, Lance. I have to go, but I'll call you when I get to town."

"Wait you finally caved and got a cell phone?"

"Not at all! I'll call from the airport."

"You're incorrigible. See you in sixish months!"

'_That seemed eons away,' _Lance thought desolately. He could use some company right now.

"Ciao," Anji signed off.

Lance heard a gentle rap at his door, which startled him.

"Dr. Sweets?" came a familiar voice: Agent Payton Perotta. She had been filling in for Booth in his absence. She poked her blonde head into his office in typical Perotta fashion—assertive but also respectful of Lance's space.

"Agent Perotta," Lance greeted a little wearily but with a smile. While he was happy to see her, he had to admit that he wanted some more time to reflect on Anjali, Booth, Daisy, life. To brood, really.

"If you're not busy, I thought you might want to come with me over to the Jeffersonian. Dr. Saroyan is investigating a new case," Perotta suggested. "A young male, approximately aged 23 to 24, was found at the bottom of a sea cliff, lodged between two boulders. He was pretty pulverized, so we haven't gotten an ID yet."

Perotta flicked her long hair from her shoulder, observing the melancholy psychologist. His skin looked almost the same pale gray color as the bleak November sky outside his window.

The corners of Lance's mouth turned up slightly at Perotta's use of the word 'we.' She did always enjoy working with the Jeffersonian team, even if it was currently minus nearly everyone who composed it.

He dutifully followed her out into the hall. As they walked, the agent leading the way, she glanced back over her shoulder. "I hope you don't mind me saying so, but you've seemed down for awhile, Dr. Sweets. Something on your mind?"

Sweets was surprised to be so directly confronted. He thought about how Booth would avoid bringing up Lance's more obvious emotions and then only reluctantly acknowledge them—if kindly enough—when there was no other choice. Lance realized how few people he knew who were as candid as Perotta. It was a nice quality.

They stepped into the elevator, which greeted them with a tinny ding.

"Um, I'm ok. Just coping with the dispersal of the people I'm used to working with, I guess." Lance cleared his throat and looked up to avoid eye contact.

"Daisy Wick in particular?" she asked, an eyebrow raised.

Lance glanced uncomfortably at Perotta. "Yes, her in particular."

Lance didn't really want to go there with Perotta. Suddenly he felt embarrassed by the fact that he hadn't moved on—hadn't dated anyone new—since Daisy left. Lance liked that Perotta seemed to value his talents at work. He almost felt cool around her. He didn't want her realizing that he was actually a complete loser in the love department. Thus, he was taken aback by her next comment.

"Well, I always thought you deserved better."

"Really?" Lance asked curiously.

"Yes, are you surprised? I mean Wick was a bit…shrill," Perotta searched for the word for awhile.

Lance noted her disdainful reference to Daisy by last name only. Well it seemed everyone he knew, not just Booth and Hodgins, felt that he was better off without his ex-fiancée. Lance had his face screwed up thinking, and Perotta was worried she'd offended him. Just as she was about to apologize for her presumptuousness, Sweets finally answered.

"She could be a bit high-strung, it's true," he admitted.

They were now heading toward the parking garage of the FBI. Lance pondered his own admission. He missed Daisy's ebullience—her little nervous laugh, her radiant energy. Yet her finer qualities also had their drawbacks. Too frequently he had felt on edge with her in polite company, fearing she might mortify him with some impulsive comment or excessively passionate display. Further, she could be a bit self centered—she certainly felt free to be neurotic, but when Lance 'moped' (as she termed it), she had little patience. He had thought that she was right—he should try harder to suppress his demons. But now that so many people in his life had confessed to a lack of enthusiasm for Daisy, he had to wonder if it had been _her_ who had been wrong for him. This was difficult to consider even silently. He had always been a bit shocked that any woman would be willing to overlook his past, his scars, his baggage…let alone love him. Could it be that he _did_ deserve better? After all, a very attractive, smart, and sexy FBI agent had just suggested the possibility.

"How did you put up with it? Earplugs?" Perotta tried to lighten the tone, as she sensed in Sweets' long pause that he was still heartbroken. She wanted to be encouraging.

"I'm the master of tuning things out. I can be very inwardly focused to the extreme." Lance smiled a little.

"Oh ok, a typical man."

"Excuse me?"

"Yep, just like my dad. My brothers and I would be running circles around his armchair shrieking our heads off, and he'd just be reading the newspaper as calm as if he were in a library." She smirked.

"It's a defense mechanism," Lance added with a devilish glint, "Helps the species repopulate. Otherwise, how could we take all the nagging?" He opened the door to allow her into the garage ahead of him.

"Hey," Perotta said whacking his arm lightly as she passed. "I'll have you know, I never nag. Unless men leave the toilet seat up…or string their like vaguely gray socks around. Ugh," Perotta shivered.

'_It is nice to have some human contact,'_ Lance observed. He smiled genuinely at Perotta as he climbed into her SUV. '_What was with the government and big, black gas guzzlers?' _he wondered, thinking again of Booth. Suddenly, Lance found that he was looking forward to the new case. It was just the distraction he needed.

* * *

At the lab, Cam was peering closely at the very mangled remains of a young man, who had been battered into looking more like ground beef than human. Amazing what damage the waves could wreck upon a body. Cam shuddered and hoped she did not meet her fate in the ocean. She'd always been a tad fearful of drowning.

She was already on edge, considering that she dreaded every new case she took on these days without her team to support her. Wendell was standing across from her next to Clark. They were both good, there was no doubt about it, but Dr. Brennan was one of a kind. When she thought about how much talent each unique member of her team brought, she knew damn well they were irreplaceable. Not to mention the fact that Cam was so used to presiding over a team that functioned as a single organism that these days she often felt like she was trying to conduct an orchestra in which only two musicians had shown up.

Clark was smiling to himself a little. "It really makes a difference when you can focus on work around here," he beamed to no one in particular and straightened his tie.

Cam internally disagreed. She was finding it quite difficult to concentrate on the human pulp before her. _'This vic is going to be impossible to identify,'_ she thought dejectedly.

"There has to be at least one identifying feature somewhere in this mess," Wendell offered helpfully. "I'll work until I find it!" There was something false about his optimism, as if even infinitely good-natured Wendell was concealing doubt and misery.

Cam was vaguely reminded of the time when Daisy Wick had declared that she would think about a problem until her brain exploded. Cam was frankly relieved to have the positive Wendell around rather than the neurotic, excitable Daisy. Thank goodness for small blessings.

When Wendell went back to examining the body, however, Cam couldn't help but notice how his face fell. Lately the intern had been less focused and sharp at the forensics platform. Cam wondered if he felt as off his game without Dr. Brennan as she did. She suddenly decided to fill in a bit for his absent mentor.

"Mr. Bray?"

Wendell didn't answer, as he was deep in thought.

"Mr. Bray?" Cam asked in a firmer voice.

"Yes, Dr. Saroyan?" he responded weakly.

"Let's go over means of identification. We were not able to ID the victim using dental records."

"Correct. He does not appear to have had any dental work done."

"Fingerprints?"

"I don't see how we can get a fingerprint off this guy—he's too bloated and beaten by the waves…" Wendell had a dreamy look in his eyes. He wasn't concentrating.

"Mr. Bray, is something wrong?"

"I'm sorry, Dr. Saroyan. It's just, I'm having some financial problems. A grant I was counting on for living expenses fell through…I'm a little distracted thinking about how I'm going to pay my rent this month." Wendell sighed heavily.

In a barely audible voice, Clark mumbled, "Of course Mr. Bray has a personal problem. We couldn't possibly go an entire day without hearing about someone's dirty laundry."

"What was that, Dr. Edison?" Cam asked.

At this precise moment came the chime of intruders on the forensics platform. Dr. Sweets and Agent Perotta walked up. In fact, Lance was advancing upon Cam rather closely. He lightly brushed off her shoulder.

"Dr. Sweets…what?" Cam asked in confusion at the intimate gesture.

"It was nothing. You just had something on your sleeve," he informed her casually.

Perotta's eyes widened. "Yeah, a _gigantic_ spider! Wow!" she exclaimed pointing at the ground where the silver-dollar-sized arachnid had dropped. It was grotesquely brown and dimpled.

Cam screeched and actually grabbed onto Lance's arm since he was still standing nearby. As if the thought of being bludgeoned to a bloody pulp by the ocean hadn't been enough for one day, now her least favorite of God's creatures had graced her with a visit. Her heart pounded, even though she knew she was being silly.

"Dr. Saroyan? You alright?" Wendell grinned. The tension had dissolved somewhat.

"Dr. Saroyan suffers from arachnophobia," Lance explained to the group in shrink mode. "Sufferers experience excessive sweating or clamminess, increased heart rate, heavy breathing, nausea, and dizziness."

Cam, who was still gripping his arm, continued to look stricken, so Lance kept going. "For some people, even a picture can trigger a stress reaction." He gazed sympathetically at Dr. Saroyan. He had tried to spare her from the spider, after all.

Cam finally pulled herself away. "Just…can someone please get rid of the spider?" Her voice betrayed exasperation.

Wendell was a gentle fellow and couldn't bring himself to kill the thing. Instead he cooed to it, "Come here, little guy," and lifted it onto a paper. He wandered away with it in tow.

Cam looked like she was going to vomit.

"Ok, how are we doing with the ID?" Perotta asked, looking at Clark for help, as if he were the only sane person present.

Clark offered, "The waves pounded this young man's body with such force that it's nearly impossible to determine any specific markers. Further, there is evidence that crabs scavenged some of the skin and vital organs."

Perotta sighed, a bit queasy from Clark's account. "So…no progress."


	3. Chapter 3

Authors' Note: All right next chapter. We hope you enjoy it. :D

We do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It is greatly appreciated. :)

**Super Ario**: Thanks for the review. :) There are some spider-hating types in our families as well. Glad you are enjoying Perotta and yes, Cam has plans to help out Sweets...**Mendenbar**: Hmm, that would be an interesting pair up, wouldn't it? ;) But yes, we also felt that is was very probable that Sweets sells himself short in the romantic department. And if even Brennan can figure out that Booth has a tendency to be the hero, we imagine that Sweets would pick up on this as well and thus worry about his "big brother".

The Shade in the Heart—Chapter 3

Cam shared Perotta's frustration. She knew that Clark would be able to reconstruct the skull. But then she wished that Angela was here for the facial reconstruction. Granted, there were other specialists in this field, but Angela's combination of technical knowledge and artistic inspiration had a way of bringing the dead to life in such a way that people could readily identify these mangled corpses.

She also knew that Wendell would be diligent in his search for cause of death and for any additional identification markers. But she longed for Brennan's presence since her careful, insightful studies of remains often yielded results that others couldn't hope to achieve.

The pathologist shook her head while attempting to stop this line of thought. She knew that it didn't do her any good to keep wishing for people who weren't going to be there and that she would have to make do with the staff that she currently had. Besides, Clark was already a respected forensic anthropologist, and Brennan had noted more than once that Wendell was one of her brightest grad students, high praise indeed considering her normal reluctance to point out such things. Cam hoped that Sweets and Perotta would be able to fill in any gaps in the field that no one else in the lab would be qualified to handle.

"Well, keep me informed of any progress," Perotta said, as she walked off the forensic platform. "I'm going to go ahead with some searching of my own. Dr. Sweets?"

"Um…go ahead," he said absently. "I'll catch a taxi back to the office." The agent nodded and left, looking back one last time before exiting.

"Have the remains moved back to my lab so that I can do a full autopsy," Cam said as she walked off. Sweets followed her.

"Dr. Saroyan…I hope that you weren't bothered by my comments on your arachnophobia," Sweets said as he walked with her. "I didn't mean to…"

"No…it's all right, Dr. Sweets," Cam said. While she did want to reassure him, truthfully she also wanted to stop thinking about the spider.

"Well…ok then…I guess I'll just…" Sweets mumbled, turning to go. Cam put a hand on his arm to stop him.

"Sweets…I was wondering, would you like to have lunch with me again today?" she asked. "I have some things that I need to talk to you about."

Sure," he smiled at her. In the past few months, the two of them had shared many lunches together. Often it was a chance for Cam to vent over her frustration with having to break in new staff and her struggles with regaining the sort of easy dynamic she had before everyone had left. But just as often it was a chance for the two of them to connect and reminisce as old friends who were missing the rest of their "family".

"Ok good," Cam nodded. "Let me just get out of my lab clothes and grab my purse. We'll go in my car."

* * *

The two of them arrived at the Founding Fathers and settled into a table in the back. They ordered drinks and meals and then sipped at their water while they waited for both to arrive.

"So how is Paul?" Sweets asked.

"Good," the pathologist said, sitting her water glass down. "Of course we're both really busy these days, but we still are finding ways to spend more time together."

"That's good. And what about Michelle?" he asked. "Is the crisis over with her boyfriend?"

"Yes, thank God," Cam sighed as she rolled her eyes. "And thank you for that advice you gave me. I thought I was going to pull my hair out with all of the fighting and mood swings she was going through…Was teenage love always this complicated or am I just kidding myself into thinking that I know what she's going through?" The psychologist chuckled a little in spite of himself.

"Just think…soon you'll have to go through the whole 'college thing'," Sweets smirked.

"Don't remind me," she grimaced as their drinks arrived. "By the way, Paul wants to spend Thanksgiving with me and Michelle and we were wondering if you would like to join us?"

"Thanks, I'll think about it," the psychologist shrugged. He then began to slowly nurse his drink while waiting for his food.

Cam watched Sweets for a couple of minutes as they enjoyed their drinks. She had noticed in the last couple of months how melancholic the therapist had become. Secretly, she was glad that he had broken up with Daisy and was hoping that now he had a chance to find a woman who was a better fit for him.

Instead Sweets seemed to turn inward and avoid the world for the most part. He spent more time at work and Cam was sure that he wasn't dating. In fact, she was convinced that the only socializing he did these days was with her and maybe Wendell and Arastoo. Cam figured that Sweets was taking the absence of Hodgins, Angela, Brennan and particularly Booth very hard. It was part of the reason that she started going to lunch with him on a regular basis; she knew that he desperately needed the company.

As a result, the pathologist became increasingly closer to Sweets. She had known for a while that he was easy to talk to and often gave invaluable advice in work and personal matters. But over the course of these lunches, she learned that he was also well-read, had a wry sense of humor, and had a tireless curiosity about the world and its people. It made her sad to think about her friend hiding himself away from the world and burying himself in his work.

'_Sweets deserves better than just getting by,'_ she thought to herself. _'If there was just some way I could get him out of this shell.'_

She knew though, that was easier said than done. For all his willingness to let people open up to him about their personal issues, the psychologist was an intensely private person who was reluctant to let others into his world outside of therapy. Cam had been able to make progress in deepening her friendship with him, but still did not feel confident about giving him dating advice. Especially since it had taken her so long to make a move in that area of her own life.

Seeing no solution to Sweets' problems, her thoughts soon drifted back to Wendell as their food arrived and they began to eat. Although he had been a good sport about Angela leaving him to go back to Hodgins, it couldn't have been easy for him. Especially since a short time later his advisor up and left and now he was facing financial problems.

'_I'm pretty sure that Wendell doesn't really have any sort of family close by who he_ _could lean on,'_ she mused. '_I know he has some friends, but no one that he could rely on to help solve a situation like this.'_

Cam nibbled at her food; things were already difficult enough at the lab. She did not want to think about two of the most valuable members of her team going through so many hardships.

Suddenly she had a moment of inspiration.

"Sweets, your apartment, it's a two-bedroom place isn't it?" Cam asked. Sweets raised his eyebrow at this question.

"Yes," he answered. While it was bigger than he truly needed for just him, the therapist had ended up using the extra room as an additional office and then when Daisy moved in with him, it became more of a place for her things. During this time, Sweets got into the habit of mainly using his office at the Bureau and now that Daisy was gone, the room was going unused for the most part. Sweets didn't even like to look in there too often since it reminded him of how empty the place was with her gone.

"I was thinking…Wendell is having a bit of a housing situation," Cam continued. "He was relying on a grant that fell through at the last moment and is now in the process of trying to secure another one. While I'm sure he will soon find the funding that he needs, it's putting him in a tight spot for now."

Sweets nodded sympathetically. He remembered how grateful he was that his parents had helped him so much financially while he was pursuing his two doctorates. While Sweets had received a great deal of money from grants and scholarships and had worked odd jobs here and there, he was sure that he could have easily ended up in the same situation as Wendell had it not been for his father's careful financial planning which funded most of his education and made it so that he could live on his own.

"So, I was wondering if you would consider taking him on as a roommate for a time while he's waiting for his next grant to come through," Cam said. The psychologist's fork clattered against his plate as he dropped it abruptly.

"I…I'm sorry, Doctor Saroyan," Sweets mumbled. "I'd like to help, but…"

"Look, Sweets," Cam said leaning toward him. "I know that you miss Brennan, Booth and the others. And I know you're still trying to get over Miss Wick. But I think this would be good for you. Wendell's a great guy and I think you'll find him good company as well."

"I'm sure he is," the therapist replied. "It's just that…I…I don't know if I can really live with someone else right now. I…." The pathologist sighed and fell back against her chair.

"Well please give it some consideration at least," she said picking some more at her plate.

"I will. I promise," Sweets said, turning his attention back to his food.

"Thank you," Cam said. "And if you change your mind in the next couple of weeks, let me know, and I'll tell Wendell. I'm sure the two of you can hash out the living arrangements from there. Also…please come have Thanksgiving with us. We would really love to have you."

"All right, I'll come," Sweets said with a slight smile.

From there the conversation moved on to work topics until they parted ways so that they could both get back to their demanding jobs.

* * *

Later that evening, Sweets sat on his couch with a paper carton of Chinese in his lap and Knox in a ball next to him.

As he ate his sesame chicken, he thought again about Cam's proposal for perhaps the tenth time that day. He understood why she had suggested it; she was probably concerned that he was spending too much time alone. If he was honest with himself, he knew that she was right.

However, Sweets was reluctant to let anyone move into his apartment. Since moving out of his childhood home, the psychologist had only lived with the women who he had been in a relationship with. He never had just a roommate while attending college or at any time afterwards. He valued his personal space and felt uncomfortable sharing it with anyone who he didn't have an intimate connection with.

Still a part of him wondered if something like this was a necessary step to move out of the rut he was in. Obviously living with his lovers did nothing to cement those relationships, so perhaps a change of pace was what he needed.

Then again, he was afraid that a roommate living in close quarters with him would be exposed to every side of him, not just the affable front that he usually put forth to the world.

Suddenly the phone rang and Sweets jerked his head toward it. _'Who would be calling me at this hour?' _ He picked up the receiver before it could reach its third ring.

"Hello?" he said.

"Hey, Whiz Kid, how are you doing?" the voice said over the line. Sweets immediately grinned when he recognized the voice as belonging to his cousin, Peter Sweets.

"Hi Peter," Lance answered. "I'm fine, how about you?"

"I'm good," Peter responded. "I'm sure you're wondering why I'm calling instead of emailing like usual. I wanted you to know that I'll be in DC in two days and I was wondering if you wouldn't mind putting me up for a couple weeks while I take some time off."

"You know you're always welcome here, Peter," Lance said warmly. Even though he rarely got to spend time with his cousin due to his work in the Army which took him all over the country and around the world, Lance considered Peter to be like an older brother and always looked forward to seeing him.

"Great," Peter said. "Then we can spend Thanksgiving together. Well I've got to get going. I'll see you here soon."

"Ok and hey, I'll pick you up at the airport," Lance offered.

"Thanks Lance. I'd appreciate that," Peter said. "I'll send you the time and the gate number I'll be arriving at in an email tomorrow morning. See you soon."

"Bye," Lance said as his cousin hung up. Settling back down into his couch, Sweets couldn't help but smile. Not only had he heard from his old friend Anji, but now he was going to get a chance to spend some time with the person who he often considered to be his closest family member now that his parents were gone. Eager to share in his newly buoyant mood, he picked up Knox and sat him on his lap. His cat seemed annoyed at his owner's impertinence, but soon started to purr as Sweets petted him.

"We're going to have a visitor," Sweets said. As he said it, the psychologist was amazed at his tone of voice.

He then realized how long it had been since he had had something to look forward to and was now relishing his anticipation.


	4. Chapter 4

Authors' Note: Next chapter. It's hard to believe that the beginning of the new season is less than two weeks away. We're both excited. :D

We do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. :D

**D**: We agree that Sweets has become a master at dispensing advice to others that he sometimes has a hard time following himself. Also, we figured that it would be nice if some of Sweets' family were to come visit...perhaps to tell him things that he needs to hear. As for how Wendell and Perotta might figure into future events, stay tuned... **Super Ario**: We love Cam/Sweets scenes on the show. They have such a great dynamic together. :D We're glad that the writers seem to have caught on and are hoping that we will see more of their friendship this next season. And as for Thanksgiving, well it will be a good holiday for Sweets. :) **Whylime**: Thanks for the review. We both love the idea of Sweets having a cat too. He seems like the type who would enjoy pets, doesn't he?** Bonesgurl81**: Welcome aboard. :D And don't worry, you will see a lot more Sweets in this fic.

The Shade in the Heart—Chapter 4

Two days later, Sweets was standing in an airport terminal, waiting for his cousin to arrive. He had cleaned up the currently vacant room in his apartment and was even mulling over the idea of trying to find a bed for it. But when Peter sent him an email with his arrival information, he let Lance know that he would be more than comfortable on the couch, so the psychologist nixed that idea.

Sweets went over and checked the arrival boards for the third time during the last five minutes. According to them, Peter's plane had arrived on time, thirty minutes ago, but there was still no sign of him. Knowing that he was being impatient, he tried to watch the people coming and going as a way to distract himself.

He didn't have to wait for much longer because soon he saw a man wearing Army fatigues, carrying a large duffel bag walk into his line of sight. He was about 6'4, broad-shouldered, and had bright green eyes and sandy brown hair that was cropped into a buzz cut.

"Hey, Peter," Lance called, waving at him. At the therapist's voice, Peter turned and grinned while walking toward him. As he watched him approach, Lance couldn't get over how much Peter was looking more and more like David, his late father, every year. Even after all this time, it still managed to bring a slight pang of sorrow to his heart since it reminded Lance of how much he missed his dad.

"Hey, Whiz Kid. Sorry I took so long, airport security and all," Peter said. Then when he got close enough, he dropped his bag down to the floor and gave Lance a firm embrace. "It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too," Lance said as he let his cousin go. "By the way, what brings you out here anyway? Usually when you do manage to take some time off, you spend it at some exotic place in the tropics." Peter chuckled at that.

"Well yes, that is fun, but I've earned some additional time off, and I wanted to spend it with family for a change," he said as he picked his bag back up. The psychologist's smile faded when he heard this.

"Things still not going well with Aunt Kate or Elizabeth?" Peter sighed at the mention of his mother and sister.

"Sadly, no," Peter answered. "I thought that they would be proud of me when I made sergeant, but nothing changed. I guess Mom was serious when she said that she didn't want me going into the Army like my dad."

Lance nodded. Peter's father, Vincent, who was David's baby brother, had served many years in the Army before leaving so that he could settle down and raise a family. Unfortunately, Vincent died when Peter was only nine, and Peter missed him to this day. Even though Lance had never had the chance to meet him, he was sure from what his father told him that Vincent would have supported Peter's decision to join the military. The rest of Peter's family, however, did not share in that belief, and now he was almost as much of an outsider as Lance was with the few remaining members of the Sweets family.

Lance was broken out of his reverie by his cousin giving him a firm pat on the back.

"Let's go back to your place so I can change and drop off my stuff," Peter said. "I'm hungry for some real food, and I'm expecting you to treat your new guest before I have to start making my own meals around here."

* * *

After depositing Peter's belongings at the apartment and grabbing a quick lunch at the Royal Diner, Lance took Peter to the Jeffersonian. While Peter had been able to see the psychologist's office in the Hoover Building, he had never had the chance to go the Medico-Legal lab where Lance spent so much of his time or meet any of Lance's co-workers.

The two of them got Peter a visitor's pass, and they started to walk around when they ran into Cam.

"Dr. Sweets?" Cam said. "I heard you were taking a little time off. And this is…?"

"Staff Sergeant Peter Sweets," Peter answered. "You must be Dr. Saroyan. A pleasure to meet you at last. Lance has told me a lot about you."

"Thank you," the pathologist smiled, charmed at Peter's friendly demeanor. "Sweets, I didn't know you had any family around here."

"Peter's my cousin and he's visiting," Lance answered. "He's taking some time off for the holidays and all. I thought I'd show him around the Jeffersonian."

"Well feel free to look around," Cam said. She noticed one of her interns walking toward her and turned to Peter.

"Could I borrow your cousin for a moment?" she said. "I need to update him on a case we are currently working on. Miss Sanders here can show you the forensic platforms while I get this out of the way."

"No problem," Peter nodded.

"Good," Cam said. "Miss Sanders, please show Sgt. Sweets here around the platforms. Just make sure he doesn't get too close to the bodies we have there now."

The intern nodded and her and Peter walked off while Cam pulled Lance aside.

"I didn't know you had a cousin in the Army," she said.

"Well, he's not in DC very often, so I don't see him much myself," Lance said. "So how is the case with the body from the cliff progressing?"

"Not good," Cam said, shaking her head. "Neither Wendell nor Clark have been able to find out anything other than some perimortem fractures which suggest that the victim may have been assaulted right before death. Have you thought of anything?"

"Well, I've looked over photos of the scene, but so far nothing really stands out as significant," the psychologist answered.

"Well, we'll keep trying to ID the victim," Cam sighed. "Hopefully once we do that, there will be more for you to work with."

A few seconds later, Sanders returned with Peter in tow. After giving her a form to sign, she left. Cam then turned back to Peter.

"I imagine Dr. Sweets has mentioned what we do here at the Jeffersonian."

"Yeah, Lance has told me about the type of work you do, and it sounds really interesting," Peter answered. "I wish I could have had a chance to meet more of your staff, but I hear that a lot of them are on some kind of sabbatical right now."

"Yes, and I can tell you that they are sorely missed," the pathologist sighed. "But still we've been able to solve a number of cases even in their absence, partially thanks to Dr. Sweets' assistance." Lance blushed while Peter patted his back.

"Well I'm not surprised at that," he grinned. "We always knew that Whiz Kid here would do something amazing with himself. He just needed to find his place is all."

"Say, how long were you staying?" Cam asked.

"A couple of weeks. Why?" Peter asked.

"Would you like to join us for Thanksgiving?" the pathologist said. "We already invited Sweets and we wouldn't mind adding another seat to the table."

"Dr. Saroyan, thank you for the invitation, but I don't want to put you out," Peter said.

"It's no bother," Cam insisted. "Sweets is a close friend of ours and any family of his is welcome."

"Then I accept. I'd love to come," Peter said.

"All right…well I have some things I need to attend to here. It was nice to meet you Peter," Cam said. "I hope we can maybe do lunch some time here soon."

"I'd like that very much," Peter said. "Until next time then."

* * *

Later that evening, Lance and Peter were sitting on the couch in Lance's apartment, eating pizza and sipping some beers. Knox jumped up to join them and began to nose around the pizza box.

"I have to admit, I'm kind of surprised that you have a cat," Peter said, smiling ruefully as Knox kept pawing at Lance's plate. "I thought you liked dogs."

"Well keeping a dog in an apartment in DC is a lot more problematic than having a cat," Lance mused. "Besides, Knox sort of adopted me. I didn't have much say in the matter." Peter laughed and finished the slice he was working on before continuing.

"So…why does everyone call you Sweets?" Peter asked. "I mean, I get that they might want to dispense with the whole "doctor" title, but why do they call you that instead of say, Lance? I thought you were pretty close to these people." Lance looked over and saw a tiny glint of concern in his cousin's eye.

"Agent Booth started calling me that because he couldn't get used to the idea of me being a doctor at first. And now, I guess it's kind of caught on with everyone else," Lance shrugged. "I don't mind. It's sort of like how Booth calls Dr. Brennan 'Bones'. It's their way of letting me know that I'm a part of their group."

"You miss them, don't you?" Peter frowned.

"Yeah I do," Lance answered back quietly.

"Well what about your girl, Daisy? When am I going to get a chance to meet her?" Lance gulped; he hadn't worked up the courage to tell Peter yet about his break-up with her.

"I…We're not together anymore," the psychologist mumbled, looking down at the floor. "She…she ended up going on the same dig as Dr. Brennan and…it wasn't going to work out." Peter put his hand on Lance's shoulder.

"Oh man, I'm sorry," he said. "I know that you were really in love with her."

"We…I had asked her to marry me. We were engaged," Lance choked out. "But…she said that she needed to put her career first. So when this thing came up in Maluku, she decided that…Anyway, we're not together anymore, and we won't be getting back together when she gets back either."

Lance was surprised at how emotional he was getting. But then he realized that this was the first time that he said out loud what he already knew in his heart and mind: that he and Daisy were over and there was no going back. Saying the words made the situation even more real and permanent to him. Plus, it drove home the idea that while he may at peace with the end of the relationship, he still hadn't completely gotten over it.

"Lance?"

The psychologist looked up and shuddered when he saw the intense look that Peter was giving him. He had seen an identical expression on his father's face many times while growing up.

"You should have told me what was going on," Peter said. "I had no idea that things were this hard for you right now. Remember what I told you after Uncle David and Aunt Carolyn died? I promised that if you ever needed me that I would be there for you."

"But…I didn't…I shouldn't…" Lance stuttered.

"No. No excuses," Peter insisted. "We're family and family takes care of each other. Understand? After all, you helped me when I was going through some really difficult times, the least I could do is return the favor."

Lance sighed and sank into the couch. Truthfully, he did want someone to help him, but he wasn't sure what his cousin could do in these circumstances. Suddenly he felt Peter put his arm around his shoulders.

"Listen, I know that I'm only going to be here for a couple of weeks," he said. "But I promise that I'll do what I can during that time. So if you need to talk to someone, some advice or if you just need the company for a while, I'm here for you."

For the first time since this last spring when almost everyone he cared about scattered about across the globe, Lance Sweets fell a dark cloud inside him part a little bit. He was far from good, but at least he felt a little better. And that was a welcome change.

"Thank you, Peter," Lance said, his voice thick with emotion. His cousin gave a wide grin of his own, his emerald eyes sparkling.

"No problem," he said. "Now, is that a video game system that I see on that shelf next to the TV? I bet that I can still beat you at almost any game you have in there. So how about it? Loser makes the winner breakfast tomorrow. Or in your case buys breakfast tomorrow."

"You're on," Lance smiled back.

* * *

A week went by and after spending three days with his cousin, Lance returned to work for a while to catch up before the Thanksgiving holiday. Peter explored DC while his cousin was at work. A couple times, he, Peter and Cam had lunch together and Cam quickly grew to like Peter.

During this time, Lance spent a lot of time talking to Peter, but a good portion of their time was spent in other activities like going to films, playing games or sharing a drink at the Founding Fathers. Lance even took him to watch one of the local hockey leagues play, and they ended up spending hours at the Royal Diner afterwards while Peter shared some of his stories from overseas with him.

Thanksgiving soon came and Cam, Paul, Michelle and both of the Sweets ended up having a sumptuous dinner at Cam's house.

As the evening wore down, Cam, Lance and Peter shared some wine in the dining room.

"Dr. Saroyan, thank you for having me," Peter said. "This has probably been one of the best Thanksgiving dinners I've had in a long time."

"You're welcome Peter," Cam said taking a sip from her glass. "So when will you be going back?"

"About the middle of next week," Peter said. "I probably going to end up overseas again for at least another six months. Germany this time. While I'm there, I'm thinking about looking up some old friends. I'm not sure if Lance told you this, but I spent a lot of my childhood in Germany and our family has distant relatives there."

"I see," the pathologist nodded. "So Sweets, since your cousin is leaving soon, have you given my proposal any more thought. Because Wendell probably can only stay at his place for a couple more weeks."

"What proposal?" Peter asked, intrigued.

"I asked Sweets if he would let one of Dr. Brennan's interns stay with him for a little while," Cam said. "He's one of Brennan's top grad students, but he's waiting for some more grants to come through so that he'll have enough funds for living expenses while he continues his studies. He has a small income, but not enough to pay for an apartment."

"Really?" Peter said. "And I take it you said no?"

"I said I'd think about it," Lance said, glowering at Cam. She noticed his expression, but chose to ignore it and rose to her feet.

"Well I'm going to clean up a little," she said. "If you two are willing to wait out in the front room for a couple minutes, I can pack you some leftovers to snack on later."

"Oh no, I don't think I can eat another thing for a week," Lance protested holding his stomach.

"Speak for yourself Whiz Kid," Peter said. "I'm sure that I'll be able to find room in a day or two. Besides, you have nothing edible in your fridge right now."

While Cam began to wrap some things up for them, Peter and Lance went out to the front room to wait. After a moment or two of silence, Peter turned to Lance.

"Hey, this Wendell guy…what's he like?" he asked.

"Wendell? Well he's hard-working, smart. And I don't just mean book smart, but street smart as well," the psychologist answered. "Considerate of others….overall a really good guy."

"So are you friends?"

"Not…we're not close. We've had drinks together a few times," Lance said. Peter nodded and lapsed back into silence for a minute. He then sat up straight and patted Lance's shoulder.

"Listen, I think you should let him stay with you," he said.

"What?"

"Now hold on," Peter said. "Just hear me out. I think part of your problem right now is you're avoiding the world too much. You've had a lot of things hit you at once, and I know it's hard to recover from all that." His cousin gave Lance's shoulder a squeeze.

"But you're a tough kid," Peter said. "I know you are. I've been seeing it for years. And I know that the best things for you when you're trying to get over the major hurdles in your life are your work and the company of others. No matter how much you want to hide yourself away. Uncle David knew that it wasn't good for you to shut yourself down when you're hurting, and I'm sure of it too." Peter moved his hand and leaned back in his seat.

"I know because I've spent a lot of time living with others….on barracks, in combat zones, on bases throughout the world," he said. "Trust me, it'd be easy for me to go a little crazy if I didn't have the guys around to lean on, you know? The things we experience on the battle field…you can't just brush it off by yourself." Peter then looked over at Lance again.

"I think having a roommate for a while would be a good thing for you," he continued. "Especially if he's like what you say. It will force you to break out of your shell a little and that's what you need right now since I can't stay here with you to make sure you do it."

Lance considered him with a rueful smile. He knew that Peter was right. This past week had done wonders for his psyche and maybe having someone around more often was what he needed to get him out of the rut he was in.

"All right, you win," Lance sighed. "I'll tell Cam tomorrow…Ever think about becoming a father someday? I'm sure you'll be good at it." His cousin chuckled at that.

"Well Whiz Kid, I'm just looking for the right woman is all," Peter said. "Just like you. But I wouldn't worry. It will happen someday. For both of us." He then sat up and looked Lance in the eye.

"In the meantime, I want you to take care of yourself after I'm gone," he said. "You're a good person Lance, and you deserve a good life. It's what Uncle David and Aunt Carolyn wanted for you with every fiber of their beings. Remember that. And remember what I said, if you need me again, just let me know and I will be here as soon as I can."

"I will, I promise," Lance said.

"Good," Peter grinned. "Now, let's grab our leftovers and go home so we can get some sleep. I want to make the most of my last couple of days of vacation."Lance smiled and followed Peter to the kitchen.

He was still unsure about the decision he just made, but he was also sure that he needed a change.


	5. Chapter 5

Authors' Note: Next chapter. And now less than a week to Bones. Yay! :)

We do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It's greatly appreciated. :D

**Super Ario**: We are also doing our own countdown to the season premier. :) Even though we are a little nervous about where they will take Sweets' character next, we're hoping that the writers will see fit to develop him further. And yes, this live-in situation with Wendell should be interesting...Thanks as always for all the reviews...**D**: We agree that we can all use a person who can cut straight to the heart of things in our lives. Peter is in a unique position for that since he's family and because he reminds Lance so much of David. It would be interesting to see how Booth and Peter interact...As for the rest of it, we will have to see what happens. :) Thanks as always for your reviews.

The Shade in the Heart-Chapter 5

Wendell moved his stuff into Lance's apartment on a Monday morning after the psychologist had already left for work. The heavens had chosen today of all days to bestow upon the gray, dreary city of Washington a persistent barrage of sleet. Drenched and shivering, Wendell couldn't remember being this physically miserable. He unloaded his first soggy boxes from a borrowed, beat-up pickup truck and turned to gaze upon his new building. It was a beautiful red-brick five-story that contrasted brightly with the drab backdrop of early December.

As Wendell moved inside, wide-eyed, he was astounded by the difference a steady, federal-government income could make in one's living quarters. The floors of the entry were clean, pale wood and there was a working elevator. He lumbered gratefully into it, each of his boxes seemingly filled with lead. Lance had offered to help Wendell move, but the intern had turned him down, not wanting to burden his new roommate on a work day. Thus, Wendell had a long morning ahead of him.

Opening the door to the apartment itself, Wendell was wowed anew. _'Maybe I should be getting my degree in psychology,'_ he thought, admiring the universal mahogany floors and granite countertops in the kitchen. _'Everyone always says you can't go into academia expecting to make money.'_ While Wendell was impressed with his new home, the truth was he was just glad to have a roof over his head. Lance's apartment was tidy, orderly, and quite cozy. As he entered his room, he glimpsed two tell-tale snow-white paws under the bed. _'Ah, Lance mentioned he has a cat,' _Wendell smiled.

"Here, kitty," he tried for several minutes. The cat refused to budge. "Guess I'll meet you later then," Wendell sighed. "I have a lot more boxes where that one came from."

Indeed, for the next four hours Wendell toiled, his silent observer stationed beneath his bed. By the time the intern finally made it into work, he felt as though he'd already put in a full day.

* * *

Meanwhile at the FBI, Lance was nervous, pondering what it would be like to live with a roommate. He trusted Peter's insights into his life, but he now wondered if he'd been too hasty in letting Wendell into his home. Like most people who lived alone, Lance had his own routines and rhythms. What if Wendell took long showers, drank all the coffee….worse yet, had women over all the time? Lance remembered that when Hodgins had been single, Wendell had taken the scientist out to meet a group of his platonic girlfriends. Hodgins had proclaimed them all 'very hot and date-able.'

Sweets frowned sitting in his office, wondering if Wendell would find his new roommate's solitary existence pitiful. Lance had no such collection of good-looking, potential dates. He mostly socialized with those at the Jeffersonian, and lately that had just been Cam. Further, he had been teetering on the brink of depression for months. He was barely holding himself together after watching his engagement collapse and his support network vanish before his eyes.

'_Am I depressed?'_ Lance wondered, deep in the throws of self analysis. _'If so, how bad is it?'_ He hadn't really paused lately to take stock of his emotions, especially since Peter's visit had temporarily cheered him up. '_Do I really want to let Wendell into my private space when I am this vulnerable?'_ Lance shivered at the thought. He hated when he got this deep into darkness, and though he was trained as a professional psychologist, there was a small voice of doubt deep inside that would never fully trust himself to manage his bleakest thoughts.

Sweets made a great effort to shrug off this line of thought. _'No, I'm a mature, stable adult and I can handle setbacks in life. I can manage living with a roommate. Wendell needs me. And Peter's probably right: I need Wendell.'_

The tepid pep talk rang in Lance's mind as if he had said the words aloud. He despised the idea of being needy. _'Who am I kidding?_' Lance thought, gazing outside at the ice slopping onto the pavement. _'I'm miserable. It's written in my face, my habits. Wendell is going to be repelled.'_

Lance reached in his pocket and took out the thank you note Peter had considerately thought to tuck in with the mail before leaving. Lance was very impressed with his cousin's social skills. _'I could work on modeling myself a little more after Peter. He's bold. He's…Mr. Adventure, but in a good way. Not however Daisy meant it,'_ Lance thought. _'Peter wants what's best for me, and since Dad's gone, I need to listen to Peter. He's all I have.'_ Lance pushed down the self pity that was rising in his chest and reread the note.

_Hey, Whiz Kid. _

_Thanks again for letting me stay and catch up with you. Things will look up. I promise. Take care, and don't forget to write._

_Peter_

After having an inward battle with himself for the better part of an hour, Sweets resolved to stop fretting over the impending change in his life. He did, however, keep checking his watch, dreading the evening.

At one point, Sweets called over to the Jeffersonian to get an update on the dead-end case of the man by the sea cliff only to learn that Cam was just as demoralized as she had been before Thanksgiving. She was talking about putting the case aside until after Christmas, because it had become such a burden. It seemed Lance wasn't the only one on edge.

The psychologist kept himself busy for hours, pouring over his profiles, filling out paperwork, and setting up counseling appointments for the week. Finally, he had no more excuses. He had to go home and face this new chapter of his life. At the very least, he was hungry and tired of eating out.

* * *

Exhausted to the very marrow of his bones, Lance was standing outside his apartment door at 8:00 pm. He raised his key to the lock thinking, _'Here goes. My first evening coming home to a new roommate.'_ He gulped nervously and entered. What he saw was not very promising.

In the middle of his once pristine hallway was a bag of dirty gym clothes (the clothes exploding forth as if the tattered nylon of the bag could barely contain them). Knox was perched atop the hideous heap kneading his little white-socked paws with the utmost satisfaction. His eyes were half closed in ecstasy. Sweets felt like never touching his cat again. The hall smelled like a locker room. He moved past his feline friend toward his bedroom.

He next became attuned to the cacophony of his kitchen, abuzz with Wendell's own post-work routine. A sports game was blaring on the radio and pots and plans were clanging with abandon. It smelled like greasy meat, which turned Lance's stomach. He sighed and decided the friendly thing to do was say hello.

'_I miss Daisy,'_ Lance thought forlornly. _'At least she smelled like vanilla. Not old socks. She was quite possibly as loud as that radio, though,'_ he realized with a weak smile. '_Suck it up, Lance. You need some company, and Wendell's a great guy. If you ask him to turn down the game and close his gym bag, he will.'_

Lance took off his suit coat and draped it over the back of a chair, proceeding to loosen his tie and roll up his shirt sleeves. He entered the kitchen—thick with the stench of animal flesh.

"Hey, Wendell," he said, trying to sound casual though he was very much on edge. He was about to add, _Do you think you could turn down the radio and pick up your rank clothes?_ when Wendell turned around wooden spoon in hand and exclaimed with great exuberance:

"Lance, Buddy!" He came over and patted Sweets on the arm.

Lance saw that Wendell was fetchingly attired in a rather womanish looking apron. He couldn't help but smile in response to the wide grin beaming at him.

"This place is amazing," Wendell continued earnestly. "I mean, granite countertops?"

"They're pretty standard in most new buildings nowadays," Lance said, feeling slightly embarrassed that his income was likely considerably higher than his new roommate's.

Wendell went on, "I'm just finishing up some dinner for us—I noticed you were working late. It's chili. My mom's secret recipe. I know it smells greasy now, but I pour that off. The secret is in the cheese, my friend. There is not one kind of cheese but _five_ cheeses in here. Oh yeah!" He nodded with pride. "You'll love it—I hope. Take a load off. Dinner'll be ready in five."

Sweets' irritation melted completely away. He was hungry, staving in fact, and you couldn't really go wrong with chili. Besides Wendell was obviously putting forth a great deal of effort to make Lance's transition to having a roommate as pleasant as possible.

In fact, Lance had no idea how hard Wendell was trying. He'd nearly killed himself rushing home from work in the slush to buy these groceries and put dinner on after a hard day of moving in and trying to appease the harried Cam. Wendell was exhausted, but he was desperate to make a good first impression. Having come from a tough neighborhood, he knew that first impressions could make or break a relationship.

"Thanks, Wendell. I'll go change and then set the table," Sweets offered.

In his room, Lance removed his work attire and threw on a t-shirt and jeans. When he stooped to pick up his tie and hang it neatly in its place on his tie rack, he noticed a small object and retrieved it. His heart sank at the realization of what it was.

* * *

Nearly fifteen minutes had passed, and Wendell became confused. _'Maybe he doesn't like chili? Maybe he's a vegetarian? Oh crap, he's a vegetarian!'_ Wendell thought, his heart sinking into his stomach. _'One day in this place, and I've already blown it,'_ he sighed. Wendell was used to living with roommates. _'If you get off on the wrong foot, things can get ugly quickly,'_ he pondered. Wendell was quite fond of Lance and hoped he hadn't mortally offended him.

The intern turned off the burner and ventured a bit shyly toward the closed door of Lance's bedroom. He knocked politely.

"Come in," Lance called. "Hey man, sorry," he responded immediately at the sight of his new roommate. Lance felt terrible. He'd told Wendell that he would set the table, and instead he had been sitting on his bed for who knows how long.

"It's no problem. Hey are you a vegetarian? Because I could whip up some grilled cheese or something…" Wendell tried hopefully.

Lance smiled at him. "No, I'm not a vegetarian. I love chili," he reassured Wendell kindly. "I was just getting changed and found this." He held up a tiny glass snowman. It had coal eyes and three minute black buttons.

Wendell reached out and took the object. "Hey…cute." He seemed a bit befuddled. He plopped down next to Lance on the bed.

The pair sat in silence a moment as the tinkling sound of ice rain filled their ears with unwelcome music.

"Daisy gave it to me last Christmas. It was the first holiday since…well in years that I felt happy," Lance sighed. "It snowed, remember? We had that beautiful, white Christmas. Those seem too rare in DC these days. And Daisy knew how much I loved building snowmen with…well how much I loved building snowmen as a kid. I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm telling you this," Lance mumbled embarrassed. His cheeks glowed red.

"Don't worry about it, man," Wendell said, socking Lance in the arm a little. "You must really miss her."

Sweets pondered this. "I'm not sure I miss her so much as the feeling that being with her brought me. You know: security, joy. Ugh, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to bring you down. Let's have some of that delicious chili you made."

Lance began to get up, when Wendell said, "Angela left a scarf at my house…I never gave it back. I feel terrible, like, what if she is looking for that scarf? What if her mother gave it to her or something? But I can't bring myself to let it go. I know we are over, but…"

Lance stuck out his bottom lip in sympathy. "It's so hard to let go of the people we love, even when we know it's not right. It's not your fault that Angela went back to Hodgins. She never should have dated you in the first place. She was being irresponsible," Lance finished without considering his words very carefully. He was thinking that Angela had already known somewhere deep inside that she loved Hodgins and had led Wendell on.

"I beg your pardon?" Wendell asked, jumping up defensively. "Hey, I know Angela and I broke up, but it's not like she didn't like me while we were together! We had a good thing going! It was worth it, ok?" Wendell's chest was heaving.

Lance put up his hands in apology. "I didn't mean it like that! I'm…" Lance's lip trembled a little with upset. _'How could I have been so insensitive?'_

Suddenly a sharp crash came from the kitchen. The sound of metal clattering against tile sent both men running toward the sound. There was Knox licking chili from the floor, the pot overturned. The little beast's paws were brown with meat and tomato.

The color drained from Lance's face.

"Oh my God! Knox, NO! Bad kitty! Bad…Geez. Wendell I'm so sorry!" Lance cried, reaching for Knox who darted away, leaving chili prints in his wake. "Oh no! Catch him! He's getting chili everywhere!"

Wendell dove on top of Knox who shrieked and clawed at Wendell's arms, trying to escape. Wendell held him fast, absorbing the blows stoically. Lance bounded over and grabbed Knox, chastising him. The psychologist gazed down at his roommate on the floor covered in chili and cat scratches and opened his mouth to speak. He couldn't think of where to begin apologizing. Their first night together was a complete disaster.

Wendell looked seriously up at Lance for a few more seconds and then burst into uproarious laughter. He lay back in the chili, clutching his belly and guffawing. Lance caught his infectious amusement and sank down onto the floor with Knox still in his arms, now purring. The kitchen looked like the site of a camp food fight.

The two laughed longer than appropriate, they were both so relieved to have the tension cut. Finally, Lance wiped his eyes from his tears of laughter and said, "Wendell I'm so sorry. About the chili, about my implication about your relationship with Angela. It was totally out of line. Of course you two were good together. Love lost is still totally worth it. I believe that."

Wendell finally stopped laughing. "It's alright." He sat up. "I know this is a little awkward, moving in together. But…I have a good feeling about it!" he cried cheerily.

"Really?" Lance grinned once again surveying the disaster zone.

"Really."

"Ok then. Shall I order some pizza? There's a place right around the corner that will deliver to my—our—building even when the weather is crappy," Lance said getting off the floor.

Wendell nodded, "Sure." He looked down at his brown-stained pants. "Might I suggest something without meat?"


	6. Chapter 6

Authors' Note: Here is the next chapter. We've finally reached the week of the Season Premier. :D

We do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you as always to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**Jsiebert**: Glad you enjoyed our more light-hearted moments with Wendell and Sweets. :) There will be much more to come... **SFT**: Yes, cats can have a little too much fondness for articles of clothing saturated with body odor. And we agree that sometimes Sweets has these awkward moments with his friends and co-workers. More than likely the product of still being young and having a very unusual (and often difficult) childhood. Hope you will be enjoying the rest of this fic as well... **D**: Neither of us want to imagine the mess chili-covered cat paws could create. And the two of us have also been in the roommate situation, so we can relate to that initial awkwardness as well. As for your thoughts on what would happen if Booth and Peter were to ever meet...well your insight is dead-on as always and we encourage you to keep an eye out in RT's other stories for that meeting...thanks again for all the reviews. **Super Ario**: A spin-off with Wendell and Sweets would probably be about as cute as one with Hodgins and Sweets (think Mr. Adventure, ;D)...We are also hoping that there some insight into how Sweets spent his time away from almost everyone in the new Season as well...Hope you enjoy this new chapter as well...:)

The Shade in the Heart—Chapter 6

After that first night, Sweets and Wendell eventually began to find ways to accommodate each other's routines, but it didn't always run smoothly. Ever since he moved out of his parents' home, Sweets had not had to consider the habits of others and was still finding it to be quite an adjustment. As a result there were tense moments of disrupted sleep patterns or requests for privacy. But Sweets made sure to continue to put forth an effort since Wendell was obviously doing his best to make his stay as unobtrusive as possible.

Despite their efforts though, one thing soon became clear: Sweets was being far less social than Wendell. Even though they were living in the same space, the psychologist managed to continue to keep to himself. Sweets often left before Wendell got up and ate breakfast at the Royal Diner or skipped it all together. Dinners were somewhat erratic since the two of them had demanding schedules and often did not come home anywhere near at the same time. When they did have dinner together it was usually a quiet affair that was only broken up by the most casual of chit-chat. After they were finished, Sweets would find some excuse to spend the rest of his evening in his room.

After a couple of weeks of this, Wendell became concerned that perhaps he was rubbing Sweets the wrong way, but even more than that, he worried at how lonely the psychologist seemed. During those times when they did socialize, Wendell had come to see Sweets as a good friend and was grateful that he had decided to help him out. He just wished that he could do something for him.

While looking at some more bones that were involved in one of their many cases in the ooky room, Wendell continued to ponder his living situation when Cam walked in.

"Any progress Mr. Bray?" she said.

"Well I can tell you that I'm getting a lot more done here than with that guy from the cliff," he said with a slight smirk. "All of the fractures we found are turning out to be post-mortem…So our accident theory with this victim is looking more and more likely."

"While we are on the subject, I don't suppose you've spent any time with our friend from the cliff here lately?" the pathologist said.

"All I can tell you for sure is that I have a theory based on a few markers that I was able to derive from the bones," Wendell sighed. "It looks like he spent a lot of time crouched down or kneeling, but he also has some indications of spending a lot of time in a sitting position, like you would find in an office job. Those contradictions are making it hard to pin down a possible occupation." Wendell punched some keys on a nearby monitor, bringing up an x-ray.

"Also, it's clear that he injured himself a couple times before due to the remodeling on right tibia and left ulna, but the battered condition of the bones is making it hard to determine how the breaks were made," the intern continued.

"Well that's more than what Dr. Clark was able to give me, so good work, Mr. Bray," Cam nodded.

"Thank you…and hey, Dr. Saroyan?" Wendell said before Cam could walk out. "May I ask you something?"

"Sure," Cam answered, walking back to stand next to the intern.

"You've known Dr. Sweets for a while now, and I know you go out to lunch with him sometimes," Wendell said. "Is he…Do you think he minds having me live with him?"

"He hasn't mentioned anything to me," Cam said. "Why do you ask?"

"Well…He keeps to himself, a lot," Wendell said. "I've suggested that we go out for drinks a few times, but he always says he has too much to do at the office, or he spends the evening in his room. He seems….I don't know…Out of sorts somehow."

"I'm sure it has nothing to do with you," Cam responded with a sad smile. "I get the impression that he likes you quite a bit. It's just that….Look I don't know all the details here, and I'm not even sure if it's my place to say this but, Dr. Sweets has had a hard life, and he doesn't have many people he can turn to."

"What about family?" the intern inquired.

"As far as I know he only has one cousin," the pathologist said. "I guess the rest are either not on great terms with him or have passed away."

"Well what about his friends?" Wendell said. "He's a good guy, I'm sure he has them."

"Most of his friends aren't here right now, Mr. Bray," Cam frowned. "Booth, Dr. Brennan, Dr. Hodgins, Angela…those are his friends."

Realization swiftly hit Wendell as Cam told him this. He remembered how, before everyone left, Sweets seemed to spend a lot of time at the Jeffersonian. Now that he thought about it, the psychologist was always in the company of Booth or someone from the lab whenever he saw him either here or at other places like the Royal Diner or the Founding Fathers.

"I understand now," the intern nodded gravely. Cam patted his arm.

"I'm sure that as he gets to know you, he'll consider you a friend as well," she said. "Just give him time. You know, even though he doesn't say it, I'm sure another reason he's feeling down is because it's the holidays and it's reminding him of everything he's lost."

"Believe me, I get that," Wendell said, looking back down at the bones. Cam smiled, desperate to lighten the mood again.

"Hey, I was planning on inviting Dr. Sweets over to have Christmas dinner with me, Paul, and Michelle," she said. "Would you like to come? It'd be no bother."

"Thanks for the invitation Dr. Saroyan, but I'm spending Christmas with my family," Wendell said.

"Well, I hope you have a Merry Christmas," Cam said. "We could all use some Christmas joy around here." She then left Wendell alone to contemplate the remains in front of him.

Wendell sighed as he looked back up. He knew that he would be enjoying Christmas with his family, but a part of him knew that Christmas would never be the same for him.

Not since there was one person who was always absent at this time of year.

* * *

Sweets sat in his office, trying to avoid ways to go home so that he wouldn't have to think about the upcoming Christmas holiday.

It was less than a week away and while he was looking forward to spending some more time with Cam and her family, Sweets found it difficult to get into the so-called 'holiday spirit.' His parents had instilled in him a love of the holidays which he still honored by quietly celebrating their memory and by finding ways to re-live the child-like atmosphere by doing things like wear elf hats and reindeer antlers. But after their deaths, there was always a sense of melancholy that filled him when he thought yet again about how much he missed them. He had finally started to fill that hole in his heart with his relationship with Daisy and the new-found family he had at the Jeffersonian. Now they were gone too and Sweets found the whole idea of celebrating the holiday season painful.

He looked again at the stacks of paperwork on the desk. The truth was, he was more than caught up on his work for the change and there really was no reason for him not to take a couple of days off.

The therapist looked over at a framed photo of him with his parents and picked it up. Even though the picture in question wasn't taken at Christmas, Sweets couldn't stop himself from reminiscing about holidays in the past.

* * *

_Nine-year-old Lance Sweets was giddy with excitement on Christmas Eve. Even though he had spent hours outside earlier that day, building a snowman with his parents, he was still full of energy. Carolyn had been baking all sorts __of __cookies and had even begun preparations for Christmas brunch and dinner. The Sweets had been visiting with friends and going to parties all week, but had made sure to stay home on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. _

'_This is the time for family,' David would always say. _

_David had spent hours shut up in his study, wrapping up a few remaining presents, and had just added them to the stack under the tree in the family room. Lance watched with a grin and even started to lean over and try to touch one of the boxes with his name on it, eager to find out what was in it._

'_Don't think that I don't see that, sport,' David said with a playful glint in his eye. 'You know the rules: no touching until Christmas.'_

'_But Dad, Christmas is only a few hours away,' Lance whined._

'_Well then, it should be easy for you to wait, shouldn't it?' his father smiled. Lance pouted, but he knew there was no winning this argument. It played out the same way every year. _

_Instead he decided to join his father on the couch, and the two of them watched the lights flicker on the tree. He snuggled against David, and his father put his arm around him and held him close._

'_So sport, is there anything in particular you're hoping is under that tree?' David asked. Lance shook his head._

'_No, I'm just curious, I guess,' he said. 'I'm sure it's cool and all…I just…'_

'_Just what Lance?' At that moment, Carolyn came in and joined them on the couch. 'What did you want for Christmas, baby?'_

'_Just…just you guys,' Lance said blushing deeply. 'I…really like having Christmas with you.' Both David and Carolyn smiled and felt their eyes grow wet. Carolyn bent down and kissed Lance on the temple._

'_And we love having you here with us,' she said. 'You always make our Christmases brighter and even more wonderful.'_

_The three of them fell silent after that and simply enjoyed each other's company while marveling at the sparkling beauty of the tree.

* * *

_

Back in the present, Sweets sniffled a little. The holidays seemed like a cruel reminder this year of all the things he hadn't been able to hold onto.

Including the people he needed the most.

* * *

That night when he got home, Sweets was greeted with a surprise.

Wendell had put a few Christmas decorations including a wreath, a couple stockings and a small Christmas tree that sat on the entertainment center in the front room. He had even put a couple little wrapped boxes underneath.

The psychologist sighed; he knew that Wendell meant well, but a part of him wished that Knox would find a way to dismantle all the decorations. However, in a fit of contrariness unique to cats, he seemed to avoid all the decorations Wendell put up. Even the tree with its shiny ornaments.

"Hey, Lance, I hope you don't mind the tree and all," Wendell said as he came out of the kitchen. "I thought this place could use some cheer."

"It's fine," the therapist said, trying to smile. "So…do you have anything special in mind for dinner?"

* * *

After a quick meal of roast chicken with some vegetables, Sweets and Wendell settled in the front room. The psychologist was engrossed in a book, and the intern was looking over some research for his dissertation. A couple hours later, Wendell stacked up his papers and sighed dejectedly. He then reached into an inner pouch of his satchel and pulled out a cigarette and put it in his mouth. Sweets noticed him doing this out of the corner of his eye and sat up in his chair.

"Um Wendell…I hate to be a tyrant, but could you not smoke in here?" he said. Truth be told, Sweets was shocked to see him with a cigarette. He had never even caught a whiff of smoke before now.

"Oh no, it's ok," Wendell said, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and smiling. "I wasn't going to smoke it…It's just…" He hung his head and sighed before looking back over at Sweets.

"Ok you're going to think this is crazy but…my dad died a few years ago. Lung cancer," Wendell continued. "Dad was a compulsive smoker, so it was no shock I guess. But…I find that whenever I need help sorting things out or just want to feel closer to him, I just have this cigarette. I never light it or anything…But it makes me feel closer to him somehow, you know?" Wendell scoffed and shook his head.

"I know weird right?" the intern said with a smile. However, he looked up and noticed that Sweets was watching him with an intense, empathetic look in his eye. The psychologist put his book down and walked out of the room.

'_Whoa, what just happened there?'_ Wendell wondered. _'Did I really creep him out or something?'_

A couple moments later Sweets returned with a small wooden box in his hands and sat back down in his chair. He clicked open the latch and carefully pulled out a paper swan. It looked very old and fragile and was stained with dirt. Sweets sat the box down and placed it carefully on his knee.

"I…I'm not sure if anyone told you this, but I was adopted when I was six," Sweets said. "My parents…they were amazing, loving people, and my dad was the wisest man I've ever met." Wendell nodded silently in response, trying to just let Sweets tell his story without any questions.

"Anyway…on the day that I met my dad at the orphanage…well, let's just say that I wasn't the easiest child to get to know," the psychologist continued. "But Dad…he didn't let that bother him. Even though I barely spoke to him, he made me all these origami figures…to amuse me, to make me feel welcome. Including this one." Sweets stopped and took a deep breath, careful to not let his feelings overtake him.

"My parents passed away not long before I started to work at the Bureau," Sweets said. "And now…whenever I need my father's presence in my life, I…I take out this swan and look at it. After a while I swear, I can still hear his voice in my head, giving me all the advice I need." He then looked over at Wendell again.

"So no, I don't think it's crazy at all," the therapist said. "And if that's what you need to feel close to your father, it certainly won't bother me."

"Wow…I'm sorry, Lance," Wendell breathed. "I didn't know."

"It's ok," Sweets smiled, placing the swan gingerly back into its box and closing it. The two of them sat silently for a moment, and then Wendell looked up.

"Hey, I have some friends that are getting together for some caroling and a stop at a coffee shop afterwards," he said. "Why don't you come with us? I have a feeling you'd be a great caroler."

"Oh, I don't…I don't know if…" Sweets stammered.

"Look, I can sense that the holidays aren't necessarily a great time for you, but it's a chance to spread a little joy," Wendell said. "We're going to be caroling at some nursing homes and orphanages, and…I think you would really get something out of it. What do you say?"

Sweets mulled over it for a moment. While it was true that he didn't really feel like reveling in holiday cheer, he did like that he had a chance to do something for others. Plus the thought of bringing some joy to an orphanage struck a nerve within him.

'_If I could make some child smile…just like my father was always trying to do for me…yeah, it would be worth it.'_

"All right," Sweets said. "I'll join you."

"Great," Wendell said. "I'm sure you won't regret it."

Sweets grinned back at him. He relished the thought there were still things happening in his life that he didn't regret, even if they did involve the bittersweet experience that was the holiday season.


	7. Chapter 7

Authors' Note: Well the season premier has come and gone and we both feel that it was a great start to the new season. We're looking forward to seeing more of how seven months away has affected our favorite characters. On a side note, considering the fic we are working on, we were both happy to see Wendell in the premier. :D

We do not own Bones or any of it's characters.

Thank you again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**Lives in the now**: Thanks. :D We figured that Sweets could use a little Christmas cheer... **Super Ario**: We also figured that Wendell and Sweets would make great friends since in a lot of ways they have a lot in common, and Wendell reminds us of Booth at times. :) We were happy to see Wendell come back in the season premier, so I guess there's hope for their possible friendship yet. We did appreciate that there was a good portion of Sweets in the premier, and we're hoping that we will continue to see some more character development for him this season...** SFT**: It is a charming scene to think of the two of them caroling to orphans. :D We pictured both of them being into some kind of charity work, so again, we could see them do this. Obviously we know that Sweets (JFD) can sing, so we wonder if Wendell (MT) can as well...** D**: When we thought back to that scene with Wendell and the cigarette in the TPPitPP episode, it occurred to us that Sweets and Wendell could have a bonding point and wanted to explore it further. And we're thinking that Wendell is perhaps the most empathetic of the interns, so we could picture him being best able to find ways to relate to Sweets...As for Booth, he will be appearing again soon. ;)

The Shade in the Heart-Chapter 7

Lance was running the length of the Washington DC mall in the early morning, flanked by the delicate pink blossoms of the cherry trees. Several lacy blooms detached from the trees and swirled lazily into his path, as if enticing him to slow down, enjoy life. He blew by them, his heart aching. There was something so romantic about spring in the nation's capital, and this only made him bitter. He had almost wanted winter to last indefinitely; at least then he could justify his inner gloom. Lately Wendell had been infected with spring fever and had repeatedly asked Sweets to join him and his girl friends for drinks, to play pool, to eat sushi. Lance could take a hint—'_I'm pathetic. I get it.'_ He was tired of turning his roommate down and just wanted to be left alone.

As the psychologist rounded on the reflecting pool he saw a couple walking arm in arm, the woman only half the size of her lover. '_Tiny, like Daisy_,' he mused, annoyed for even having the thought. As he galloped on, he sloshed into a puddle the size of a kiddie pool and cursed quietly. Part of him really resented Daisy. '_Why did she have to say 'yes'? Maybe it would have been easier to move on, if only…'

* * *

_

Three hours later, Sweets showed up at the lab wearing a chocolate-colored suit that made his brown eyes gleam. But he wasn't feeling very handsome. He couldn't stop his inner demons from whispering the same ugly words of condemnation over and over: '_You'll never find someone who loves you for who you are. You'll always be alone._'

Lance surveyed his surroundings quietly. Wendell and Arastoo were hovering over their work intently on the forensic platform, screwing up their faces in concentration. Despite Wendell's recent campaign to get Sweets out of the house, the psychologist was growing quite fond of his roommate. He had never had many male friends and was pleased to count Wendell among the ranks of Booth and Hodgins. '_Although_,' Lance thought sadly, '_I haven't heard from either of them in months.'_ At least they were coming home in three short weeks. Sweets' heart lightened at the thought.

"Hey, man!" Wendell waved with a gloved hand, having suddenly noticed their visitor. This is what Lance appreciated about Wendell—he was always so enthusiastic and genuinely positive. Arastoo glanced up and also waved briefly but quickly resumed weighing bones and recording his measurements in a small spiral notebook.

Lance dashed up the steps, as Wendell removed his gloves. The psychologist noticed two angry-looking red gashes on Wendell's pale hand that could only mean:

"Knox!" Lance's eyes widened.

"Yeah, that little devil got me pretty good this morning. Swiped me as I passed by the couch. Didn't see it coming!" Wendell shook his head in defeat.

"Cats," Lance muttered, feeling vaguely guilty. _'I wish Knox would try harder to get along with Wendell,'_ Lance thought.

Arastoo sighed and yanked off his gloves. "I'm not getting anywhere with this." He slumped down in a chair and tossed his notebook aside. He ran a hand through his glossy, black hair in agitation. "I can't wait for Dr. Brennan to get back. I even miss her withering stare when I break for prayer."

"Well, it won't be long now," Wendell replied encouragingly.

Cam emerged from her office, looking prim and pretty in a high-collared purple dress. She strode briskly across the room towards the men on the platform.

"Good. I'm glad you three are here," she began. "I'm really getting pressure from the FBI to make some headway on this case, as a senator's son has gone missing. The missing male is around 23 and could potentially be our victim, though we can't determine any reason that he would have shown up at the sea cliff where our John Doe was found. I'd like you three to return to site of the body dump and check _again_ for more evidence." Her emphasis on the word 'again' betrayed that she was feeling antagonized by the higher ups.

Lance furrowed his brow. "But why me?" He didn't really feel like driving several hours to a crime scene when his skill set was more useful at the office.

Cam responded in a business-like tone, "Because maybe the ocean setting will suggest something psychological to you that can give us a clue. I'm desperate. Just give it a try." Cam's harried look convinced Sweets that she wasn't just wasting his time. She genuinely felt lost on the case and was grasping at straws. Lance had a very difficult time saying no to a friend in need and nodded his assent.

Wendell clapped a hand on the psychologist's shoulder, who cringed the tiniest bit. Lance was still getting used to his roommate, despite his fondness for him.

"Looks like we should grab our sunblock, fellas," Wendell proclaimed.

Arastoo chimed in, "Fieldtrip!"

'_Some ocean air might do me good,'_ Sweets realized. "I'll drive," he offered.

* * *

At the water's edge Lance's eyes traced the ebb and flow of the waves. Salt filled his senses with memories of the time he had first swum in the sea. He had gone to the beach with his parents as a child and had been entranced by the frothing of the waves as they slapped the sand.

"_It looks like spider webs!" Lance had told David as he watched the foam spread in strings on the sand. David just smiled down at him. They had built an enormous sandcastle together surrounded by a liberal moat. Carolyn sat on a striped beach towel further up the shore and waved, flashing her lovely smile from beneath her broad, straw hat._

"_Did you want to go in?" David asked._

"_Oh…yes!" Lance decided. He was nervous at first, but with David's large hand enveloping his, they ran together toward the blue horizon. They hit the water with a splash. The water was so cold it almost stung. Lance shrieked with joy_

"You ok, Lance?" Arastoo asked, noticing the far-off look in the psychologist's eyes.

"Yeah. I'm fine," Lance said trying to shake off the memory. Then he glimpsed something wrapped around a rock 20 or so feet out in the water. He had sharp eyes. "Hey, you guys see that?"

"No, see what?" Wendell asked, using his hand as a visor against the sun. The light made his hand appear pinkly transparent.

Arastoo said, "I think I see something, too—on that rock!" He squinted. "Is either one of you a good swimmer? I mean, I'm ok, but I don't love the ocean…"

Wendell shuffled his feet unwillingly.

Lance sighed and impulsively began stripping off his suit coat, tie, and pinstriped shirt. He then removed his pants and shoes. He felt a little silly standing there in his boxers, socks, and white undershirt. At least none of the female contingent of the Jeffersonian team were here to witness this.

Without pondering how cold the water was going to be, Lance dove in. It almost took his breath away. He kicked as hard as he could to get his heart rate going. In a moment, he was at the rock and began to untangle what looked like a man's jacket. It was quite difficult to dislodge, and as Lance gave it a final yank, he plunged back into the water with a splash.

Sweets was so cold, he tucked the jacket beneath his arm and side-swam back to shore, using his powerful right arm like an oar. Once back on the sand, his teeth were chattering violently. Arastoo removed the jacket from his own back and offered it to Lance immediately. In return, Sweets gave up the soaking piece of evidence.

Lance tied Arastoo's jacket around his head rather like a turban, as he put back on his own clothes with shaking hands. He didn't care how ridiculous he looked. Frankly, he was feeling annoyed that he had been the one to retrieve evidence in the first place. That wasn't his job by any stretch of the imagination.

Wendell was saying to Arastoo, "Look what's in the pocket! Some kind of object in a plastic bag. Like a fragment of pottery," he finished squinting at the object.

Arastoo took the bagged object and furrowed his brow in concentration. "It looks ancient. And…Asian. Japanese?" he suggested.

Wendell went on talking, but Lance tuned them out. He was seriously irritated.

He'd rather be alone in his office then out in the field with Wendell, who seemed to be omnipresent in Lance's life now. _'No, I'm not annoyed at Wendell,'_ Lance realized._ 'I'm just really, really cold_. _If I get hypothermia, I'm sending Dr. Saroyan the bill,'_ he huffed to himself redirecting his current hostility to Cam, who had sent him on this fool's errand after all.

"Man, you're a really good swimmer!" Wendell broke through Lance's reverie. The psychologist looked up, now fully dressed and feeling a tad warmer.

Arastoo nodded earnestly. "You are really good, Lance." Then he chuckled. "You look a little like a sultan with my jacket tied on your head like that."

Sweets felt pride at the compliments peppered with a touch of lingering irritation for being the one forced into this ridiculous state.

Wendell read Lance's expression and could tell he was not thrilled with being wet. Spring was too cold for ocean swimming, and Lance's lips looked a little blue. The intern suddenly had a flash of inspiration.

"I was thinking about training for this triathlon coming up this summer…you wanna train with me, Lance? I could use the swimming tips. You should train too, Arastoo! It'd be fun," Wendell said enthusiastically.

Lance stuck out his bottom lip in thought. _'That does sound like fun,'_ he had to admit. Sweets had done a couple of triathlons in graduate school, but it was very hard to train without moral support. He thought about Daisy returning in a few short weeks and liked the thought of being fit when she got back. Childish as it was, part of him wanted her to know what she was missing out on.

"Yeah," Sweets said before he could second guess himself. "I'll do it."

"I'm in," joined Arastoo.

"Great. This is going to be fun," Wendell responded, pleased. "Well, should we get this pottery fragment back to the lab? Thanks to Lance's heroic efforts, we may actually have a piece of evidence that will put us back on track to solving this case. We can make Dr. Brennan proud when she comes back."

In the car, Lance could feel the sun penetrating his window. The heat of the three men caused the glass to fog up, and he flicked on the defrost. His irritation dissipated as he warmed up, and he began to think about the case. '_Why would a man carry a piece of ancient Japanese pottery in a baggie in his jacket pocket to the ocean?'_ He wished Dr. Brennan were here. He had no doubt that she'd identify the pottery with just a glance, and they'd be on track to solve the murder.

Lance missed Dr. Brennan painfully all of a sudden. He wondered if she and Daisy had gotten to be friends in Maluku…perhaps even better friends than he was with the anthropologist. After all, now Daisy had spent more time with Dr. Brennan than he had. What if Daisy, who was notoriously loose lipped, had told Dr. Brennan things about him? Personal things. The pit of Lance's stomach dropped. '_What if she told Dr. Brennan about my past?'_ he worried. He hadn't divulged to his ex every perverse detail of his horrific origins, but he had told her more than any other woman. Brennan knew he had whip scars. What if she'd asked what Daisy knew about them?

Despite being significantly warmer than when he first got in his car, Lance shivered. Wendell noticed and cranked up the heat a little more out of concern, though Arastoo was sweating in the back seat. Wendell also flipped on some music, which happened to be Lance's "In Rainbows" CD.

"I love Radiohead," Wendell commented more to himself than anyone.

Sweets eyed him cautiously. "Really?" He would have pegged Wendell as more of a Bruce Springsteen kind of guy. He rather relished the idea of Wendell head banging to Thom Yorke.

"Yeah, man. I've seen them three times in concert," Wendell replied earnestly.

Lance was impressed. Wendell was…pretty great. Daisy had always hated Radiohead. In fact, she'd had atrocious taste in music. '_Come to think of it, as soon as I get back to work, her Phil Collins CD is going in the trash_,' Lance thought as it caught his eye, nestled beside the passenger seat.

Sweets remembered his former train of thought about Dr. Brennan and Daisy as friends. _'Nah,'_ he thought, fairly satisfied that of all people, Daisy would not be taking his place in Dr. Brennan's affections. Further, Brennan was a stickler for keeping her interns on task. She most likely would not be pressing Daisy for information on her former love life. Besides, he shouldn't flatter himself to imagine that Brennan was thinking of him at all.

Lance pouted silently, while Yorke sang: "How come I end up where I started?/ How come I end up where I went wrong?/ Won't take my eyes off the ball again."1

* * *

1. "15 Step," _In Rainbows_, Radiohead.


	8. Chapter 8

Authors' Note: No we haven't forgotten about this fic, and we are returning to it now. :)

**RT**: This was entirely my fault for not updating so long. As many of my regular readers know by now, sometimes I get stuck on a project and have to leave it alone for a while to get back on track. I think I've figured out what I need to and I hope to not hold up B3 or our readers any longer. :D

We do not own Bones or any of its characters...as much as we'd like to. ;)

Thank you again to everyone who has been reading/following/reviewing this. We appreciate it immensely.

-**D: **We are inclined to agree with you that Brennan has learned to appreciate her other interns, thus why she's trying harder to be kind to them in the lab. :) And we agree that the key moment for Sweets will be when he fully realizes his place within the FBI and within his "tribe" with Booth and the Jeffersonian gang. At that point he will be better equipped to make decisions that will be beneficial to him. Wendell does seem like the type of guy that Sweets can use in his life to help in that journey...-**Super Ario: **We are with you there. Radiohead is pretty awesome. ;) As we've watched this season go on, we are thinking that Sweets is starting to become a little more comfortable in his own skin, and that's good to see. Certainly, his relationship with Booth seems to be becoming even more friendly. But both of us are hoping that Sweets will have a chance to interact with the other characters soon and that we'll get a little more insight into his world this season...

-**HappyAlien:** Exactly what we were bemoaning before the two of us joined this site: why aren't there more Sweets fics? We are happy to see that more of them are being produced these days, and hope that the trend continues...-**Lives in the now: **B3 would like to note that "Don't lose my number" was one of her favorite songs in the 80s and RT thinks that "Jesus he knows me" was one of the best satirical songs of the 90s. But as much as we might like Genesis/Phil Collins, we can't exactly see the death metal loving Sweets caring for it. ;) We see Radiohead as being something he'd enjoy on his good days since he confessed to Wyatt in Mayhem that he mainly listens to death metal "when [he's] had a bad day." ...

-**Cobalt6233: **Thanks, we love the idea of Sweets hanging around the interns too. We have the feeling he'd be less picked on there. ;P...-**Sweetfavoritethings: **It's fun for us to have this to go back to while Season Six is giving us so little of Sweets these days (other than the premier). But we know that as the season moves on, it will become more AU...And yes, there really should be more scenes of Sweets hanging out with people like VKM or Wendell or...well you get the idea. :)...-**Whylime: **Yes, that's one of RT's favorite lines in that chapter as well. :)...-**Blazing Rubellite: **Thank you. :D We have both enjoyed Dayplayer's music, and RT is pretty sure that B3 has seen the interview that you are talking about since between the two of us, we've seen every JFD interview on the web. ;) Thanks again for all the reviews.

The Shade in the Heart—Chapter 8

Sitting in his office at the FBI's Hoover Building, Sweets began to contemplate one of the cruel ironies of his life. For months now he had longed for an end to his year apart from the people that he cared about most, but now that it was almost here, the psychologist found himself dreading its arrival.

He had received word from Cam that Dr. Brennan and Daisy would be coming back to DC in about a week. An unexpected storm in Maluku was causing a delay in their flight schedule. The pathologist had also heard from Angela and Hodgins, and apparently they were already packing up to come home, so that they could meet with Brennan when she arrived at the airport. There had been no word from Booth, but Cam seemed optimistic that he would be home around the same time as the rest of them.

Initially he had been happy to hear that they would be coming home soon and that his isolation was ending, but after thinking about it for a while, Sweets began to have his doubts.

First and foremost, he wondered if things would be the same when everyone returned. While there had been no real animosity in everyone's parting, Sweets couldn't help but wonder if the time spent away might have strained everyone's relationship to each other. Specifically, he was thinking about how Brennan and Booth seemed to run away from each other not long after their disastrous confrontation of their feelings for each other.

'_How will they feel when they see each other again?'_ he asked himself. _'Will they be happy to see each other…in a friends sort of way…Or maybe the time apart made them realize how much they really need each other…Or what if…they realized that they don't need each other after all?'_

This last thought made Sweets gulp. Even if it was never said directly, Booth and Brennan were the undisputed leaders of this little "tribe" that had formed from the FBI and the Jeffersonian. Without the unity of the tribe's leaders, the psychologist didn't see how the rest of them would be able to function as a cohesive unit ever again.

'_Maybe everyone will decide that it's time to move on to bigger and better things. Dr. Brennan would go back to focusing on ancient remains…Booth would go back to working on his own in the Bureau…Angela would go back to her art…'_

What disturbed Sweets the most about this line of thought was the fact that while he could picture "bigger and better" things for everyone else, he couldn't see any such opportunity for himself. He had been happy with the way things were, and truthfully, he wanted to go back to that time when he was starting to feel like he belonged somewhere and had felt loved.

Sweets sighed and put his head down. The thought of love made him think of Daisy for the umpteenth time in the last month or so. At first, he couldn't understand why he was obsessing over her return. He had made the decision months before that their relationship was truly over and was sure that she would move on once she got back to civilization.

But then he realized that there was always the possibility that Daisy would want to re-consider starting a new relationship with him…much like how there was the chance that Brennan could make that decision with Booth.

Sweets sat up and rubbed his eyes. He was sure that Daisy's complete reversal of her decision to leave him was not a realistic possibility.

'_But what if it is?'_ he kept asking himself. _'What if she does want me back? Should I go for it?'_

Sweets couldn't deny that he had missed her terribly, and he had to admit that there were a lot of things about Daisy that he wished he could have back in his life. But the time away from her had given the psychologist the chance to re-think their relationship with greater clarity. After considering it carefully Sweets knew that it wasn't just Maluku that caused Daisy to leave him, but dissatisfaction with their relationship in general.

'_I wasn't enough for her,'_ he thought bitterly. _'I wasn't Mr. Adventure….And I'm certainly not that now…So why would she want me back?'_

'_People can change…a year can be a long time for some.'_

The therapist shook himself. He wasn't getting anywhere with this line of thought. At this moment, he wished that he could talk to his father…or his cousin. Someone who could help him sort out these confused feelings. Someone who he knew had his best interests at heart.

The phone rang, startling him. Sweets picked it up to find Cam on the other end.

"Sweets, I just wanted to let you know that we were finally able to find someone at the Jeffersonian who could identify that shard of pottery that was in the jacket that you found," the pathologist said. "Turns out it is Japanese. So the theory is now that perhaps the victim was someone with an interest in Japanese culture."

"Well that's good to know, Dr. Saroyan," Sweets said. "But I'm afraid that it doesn't really give me anything to work with."

"I figured that you'd say that," she sighed. "I hate this case…I can honestly say that no one will be happier when Dr. Brennan comes back than me."

"What about the senator's son?" the psychologist asked. "Was he known to have an interest in Japanese art?"

"As it turns out, that kid had an interest in everything," Cam answered. "When I asked the senator if his son had any particular hobbies or interests, he answered that his son 'didn't believe in shutting himself off to any possibilities'. So he'd be just as likely to have a piece of Asian pottery in his pocket as a book on Kant's philosophies or an iPod filled with African tribal music."

"So…no help there," Sweets said.

"Exactly," she said. "Well I need to get back to work. There's a lot that needs to be sorted out for when Brennan gets back, and I have to oversee all of it…I will let you know if we find anything else."

"Good luck, Dr. Saroyan," Sweets said ruefully. He then hung up and went back to his paperwork on his desk.

After all, it seemed like just as good of a way as any to avoid thinking about the self-doubts that were haunting him.

* * *

Two days later, Sweets arrived at his office early in the morning and his secretary informed him that Cam had left a message for him about some "good news" and that she would call him back at some point.

'_Maybe there's been a break in the case,'_ he thought as he settled in to go over his assignments for the day. He couldn't think of anything else that would have put the pathologist into such a jovial mood.

After about three hours of work, Sweets felt his stomach lurch and rumble. His mood had been especially dark when he woke up this morning, so he left as quickly and quietly as he could to avoid running into Wendell. That had meant skipping breakfast, and while he didn't mind it at the time, he was starting to regret the decision now.

Suddenly the sound of his door opening made the psychologist jump in his chair and he spun around to see who was there.

"Hi Sweets," Booth said as he walked into the room.

Sweets got up from his chair, shocked into silence. It had only been a year, but it still seemed a little unreal to see Booth standing in his office again. Realizing that he was probably creeping Booth out with his lack of response, Sweets walked over and held out his hand.

"Agent Booth," the psychologist said quietly. "I'm glad to see that you're well after your time in Afghanistan." Sweets noticed that Booth had frowned and was furrowing his eyebrows at him.

'_What? Did something happen over there?'_ Sweets worried. _'Is it something I said? Or maybe something I should have said?'_

His train of thought was quickly disrupted though when Booth pulled him into a strong, "manly" hug.

"It's good to see you, Sweets," Booth said patting his back. Sweets grinned, struggling hard to not become too emotional.

"It's good to see you too, Booth," he said as the agent let him go. Booth stared at him for a moment longer and began to push him toward the office door.

"Come on," he said. "I'm starving…and it looks like to me you could stand to eat too."

* * *

The two of them rode over in Booth's SUV over to the Royal Diner, and after ordering their meals, they proceeded to catch each other up on all of their lost time. The conversation was soon overshadowed by Booth's exploits overseas, but Sweets didn't mind that since he felt that there really wasn't much to report on his end. As he listened, the psychologist couldn't help but notice that Booth was probably leaving out the more dangerous elements of his work in the past year. But even as he thought this, Sweets couldn't deny that he had done his best to try to hide how lonely he had been with everyone gone from DC.

The therapist was also keenly aware that Booth had probably picked up on this and he considered the irony of the two of them holding things back and trying to kid themselves into thinking that the other person didn't notice.

Despite all that, Sweets felt his mood lift by leaps and bounds as he enjoyed his hearty lunch with the agent. He was almost able to put all his anxieties about Daisy to the back of his mind. Almost.

"All right Sweets, what's on your mind?" Booth finally said after taking a long drink from his soda. "And stop trying to dodge it. You've been off ever since I stopped by your office. You're terrible at hiding things."

Sweets sighed, pushing his plate away from him. There were times when the psychologist hated that Booth could read him so well, worried that it made him less able to maintain any sort of therapeutic presence with him or Brennan. In the last couple of years, however, Sweets came to realize that the fact that Booth could sense his thoughts and intentions made it so Booth was able to trust him and by extension Brennan was as well.

Plus, Sweets learned that there was the benefit that he had gained a valued friend and confidant in Booth whose insight could be crucial in times like these.

"I was thinking," Sweets said carefully. "Dr. Brennan will be returning from Maluku soon. I'm sure that will bring up some issues…"

"But it's not Bones that you're thinking about," Booth interrupted. "Is it?"

"No," Sweets gulped, turning to look out the window. Booth snitched a fry off Sweets plate and ate it before continuing.

"Look Sweets, I know you really cared about Daisy, but you need to move on from that," the agent said. "It's just going to eat you up inside if you don't."

"I know...But I…" Sweets started and then stopped, still averting his gaze. As Booth watched him, he couldn't help but think about how Sweets looked like he might try jumping through that window just to escape this conversation.

"Sweets….what's going on?" Booth asked cautiously.

"You…you remember the subway accident that happened last year?" the psychologist asked. Booth nodded, confident that Sweets did not need to discuss that again.

"After it was over and I got to thinking…I…I decided that I didn't want to be alone anymore," Sweets continued. "I asked Daisy to marry me. She accepted…We were engaged for a while there."

The therapist stopped and took a deep breath, refusing to look Booth in the eye. He took a large sip of water to loosen his throat.

"I don't know why I didn't tell any of you," he said. "I guess…I guess a part of me was unsure about it all…and maybe a little worried about what you would think. I mean, don't get me wrong…I loved her and wanted to spend my life with her, but I suppose a part of me knew that there was something wrong." Sweets picked at a piece of lint on his suit as he worked up the nerve to continue.

"But, a bigger part of me thought that all that was just nerves and that things would fall into place as it got closer to when we got married," Sweets added. "Then the Maluku thing came up…You know, she didn't even tell me that she was applying for that….Anyway, when she found out that she had been accepted, she told me that her career would have to come first."

Sweets finally looked up at Booth and found that the agent had an encouraging expression, even as he remained silent.

"Did I tell you that she suggested that I go with her?" Sweets snorted, pushing his plate a little farther away. "She told me that I could work as a pearl diver or something while she did her thing in Maluku….And for a little while there…I considered going…And to this day, sometimes I wonder…I wonder if I should have…."

To Sweets' shock, Booth reached over and patted his forearm. The gesture made the psychologist look back over at Booth.

"Listen to me…Do not regret for one second your decision to stay here," Booth said, his voice gentle but firm. "This is where you belong…Doing the work that you were meant to do…Staying with people who care about you…And being the person who you are at the core."

"But you all left," Sweets said, the words bursting out before he could stop them. "All of you left…and I…I was…."

Sweets put his head in his hands, ashamed of the spectacle he was making of himself in front of Booth. He drew a bit of comfort from the fact that the two of them were practically alone in the diner at the moment. It helped…but not nearly enough.

Suddenly, he felt Booth nudge his shoulder, and when he looked up he was relieved that the agent's expression was not one of embarrassment or irritation, but of understanding.

"I'm sorry Sweets…I'm sorry that things got that bad for you," Booth said, his tone completely sincere. The agent leaned back in his chair and ate a couple more fries before moving his chair closer to the table.

"But look, I think you shouldn't sell yourself short like that," Booth said. "I know that you had a difficult time, and you're probably still getting over that…But you know what? I also can see something else when I look at you."

"What's that?" Sweets said, tilting his head.

"I can see your toughness, your resilience," the agent replied. "You've been through a lot, but you haven't lost yourself…I've seen guys after they have been crushed by life. They lose everything that makes them who they are."

Booth picked up Sweets' plate and placed it directly in front of the psychologist.

"But that's not you," Booth added. "And it's about time that you give yourself some credit for that." Booth leaned even closer, his eyes intense.

"When Daisy gets back, you need to remember that she decided to go forward without you," he said. "That was her choice. Your choice needs to be one where you let yourself move on and find happiness elsewhere. And if she's thinking about reconsidering the decision she made …believe me, you are better off standing firm because you don't owe her a thing. It's time for you to use that strength of yours to give yourself a better future."

Sweets collapsed back in his chair, stunned by Booth's words. While it was true that many of those ideas had had a fleeting moment in his own mind, Sweets did not expect that those ideas would be summed up in such an intimate and heartfelt way by Booth. It helped to further drive home the myriad reasons why Sweets was deeply grateful that the agent had returned.

Still there was one last thought that he couldn't put aside.

"Booth, you never did answer my question," Sweets said, finally starting to eat again.

"I didn't know that there was one," Booth smirked, grabbing another fry from Sweets' plate.

"When Dr. Brennan returns, what will you…?"

"I don't know," Booth said in a rare moment of vulnerability. "All I know is that I'm going to need time to figure it out."

"Just time?" the therapist asked. "Or time and space?"

"Just time," Booth nodded. "We've had plenty of space…I don't need any more of that."

Sweets bobbed his head and ate some more of his food. Years of treating and being friends with Booth had given him the ability to know when to halt a line of inquiry, and Sweets knew that that time was now.

Instead the two of them consumed their meals in companionable silence that wasn't broken until Sweets finished his last bite.

"I should get back to the office," he said, pushing his chair back and getting up. "I've got patients to see and all."

"Yeah, I've got things to do around here as well," Booth said, standing up as well. "But hey, it really was great to see you. And I'll probably see you again soon…But until then, remember what I said, ok?"

"I will…and thank you," Sweets grinned.

Booth chuckled and quickly strode out the door. The therapist shook his head as he realized that Booth had stuck him with the bill yet again.

'_I guess some things haven't changed over this past year,'_ he thought to himself.

But even as he pulled out his wallet to pay, Sweets found himself immensely relieved over the truth of that fact.


	9. Chapter 9

Authors' Note: Next chapter. Again, we'd like to point out that we started this before the new season started and thus, this fic will become pretty AU by about this point on...

We do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

-**Lives in the now: **Thank you. :D Often some of our favorite scenes from Bones involve a moment of banter or bonding between Booth and Sweets, thus why we like to include this scenes in our fics...-**SFT:** We will admit that the Season Five finale left us pretty stymied as to how to handle Daisy, but we are reserving judgment as to how her story line will continue with Sweets here in Season Six. And as to Sweets' motivation, the main thing we were curious about was the fact that Sweets didn't tell Booth that he was engaged to Daisy. We are convinced that if he had, Booth would not have been so callous about Sweets' dilemma about Daisy leaving for Maluku. So the question becomes why? Why of all people would he not tell Booth, the person he's the closet to? Our feeling is that Sweets might have had some concerns. It'll be interesting to see how the writers work them out. In the meantime, we are going to go our own direction...-**Whylime: **We agree that the episodes make more sense with the idea that Booth didn't know about Sweets' engagement. Otherwise he wouldn't have said the sorts of things he did to Sweets in the season finale. And yes, we also thought that they did not go into the implications for Sweets enough in that episode. In one fell swoop he lost his fiance and almost all of his "family". No wonder he took a sabbatical to try to deal with things...

-**D: **We noticed that Booth was doing this to Sweets on the show when they first became close enough to eat together at the Diner (a sure sign that you are "in" with the B&B tribe). Since Sweets is the one with a PhD and a PsyD, we are going to assume that he has the bigger salary. Thus, Booth feels he can pick on him a little. ;) We did notice somewhat of a parallel between Sweets/Daisy and B&B thus, we have a feeling that Booth and Sweets are bonding a bit over trying to deal with life after Brennan and Daisy while still having them present in their world. Time will tell how it works out in both cases...And no, Hannah is not in this fic. We decided to go a completely different route for this story...-**Super Ario: **Thanks. We will be getting into the gang's return over the next couple of chapters. So we hope you'll enjoy the ride...,-**Peanutmeg: **Thank you for the review. We are thrilled to make your day a little brighter. :D Hopefully you will enjoy this update as well.

The Shade in the Heart-Chapter 9

It seemed like the moment Dr. Brennan's plane touched down, Sweets had to face exactly what Booth had prepared him for. The psychologist was perched in the Royal Diner, watching his phone silently flash, "Daisy Wick, Daisy Wick, Daisy Wick," as if taunting him to answer. He did.

"Hey, Lance," the familiar voice on the phone line said. "Dr. Brennan gave me a few days off to get my affairs in order, but I thought we should talk."

Lance listened to his cell phone with some difficulty. Though Daisy was no longer on the opposite side of the world from him, it was as if he was trying to make out her words over the clanging of a brass band. He realized that indeed a waitress had just dropped an armload of silverware behind the counter. The spring sun shot diagonally across the table illuminating Lance's hand, twitching on the table. He stared at the hand as if it he didn't recognize it.

"What?" he coughed out to Daisy when he realized she was still on the line.

"Talk, Lance. I'd like to talk," she enunciated more clearly, mild irritation creeping into her tone. She was treating him like a child. "Where are you?"

Instinctively, Sweets threw a few bills on the table and shuffled toward the door. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't want to see her here. The diner was his territory. He didn't want it sullied by reminders of his romantic tragedies.

"I'm walking toward Kramerbooks. Let's just meet there in an hour," Lance suggested. "Ok?"

"See you then," Daisy agreed.

Would she want him back, forcing him to stay resolute as Booth had encouraged? Or did she want to discuss something else? _'I'll find out soon enough.' _The long year of separation had ended.

* * *

In Kramerbooks, Lance was blindly browsing through the new paperbacks, taking in the toasty, coffee smells of the café out back, when he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder.

"Lancelot! Well, I guess I shouldn't call you that anymore," Daisy blurted, fetchingly attired in a pink cardigan. Her long brown curled up at the ends, as if even her hair was happy and energetic. She embraced him briefly, as he tried not to think about what it felt like to hold her again.

'_I can do this. I'm over her,'_ Lance informed himself. He glanced over her head out the window and noticed an elderly man with a long, scraggly beard looking very lost.

Daisy brought him back to task. "It's nice to see you again—wow, I didn't know you were into vampires," she interrupted herself. "Steamier than _Twilight_, bloodier than _True Blood_," she read off the back cover of the book Sweets was cradling. "Interesting reading," she offered, apparently confused.

To his embarrassment, Lance had picked up some kind of vampire-romance novel. '_Have vampires infiltrated every genre?'_ he wondered. He hastily returned the book to its place.

"Um, I just had coffee; want to walk around outside instead of staying here?" Sweets stammered. _'Why is this so uncomfortable?'_ he wondered. _'You're a professional at managing human behavior. Get a grip,'_ he berated himself.

"Actually, no,' Daisy replied briskly. "I have an appointment in a little bit. I'd rather say what I want to right here."

She was always blunt. Lance shifted uncomfortably, still not knowing where this was headed. He disliked when Daisy had intensely personal conversations with him in public.

"I hope we can still be friends, Lance. I know we've been through a lot together, but going to Maluku and pursuing my dreams was really good for me. I was able to find my center. I feel more secure about my future as an anthropologist. Can you understand that I needed this? I hope you won't hold a grudge against me." She set her face in a worried frown.

Sweets was hearing the words but having trouble believing them. So she had gone to Maluku and found herself. Breaking up with Lance was the best thing that had ever happened to her, and now she wanted to know he was happy for her? _'Didn't I already tell her that I could never hate her? Is she just rubbing this in?'_ Lance's blood boiled. He now realized that part of him had been _hoping_ that she'd want him back, giving him the chance to reject her like she had him.

He was not proud of that, but nevertheless he rejoined, "Well, that's great, Daisy. I'm glad Maluku was good for you." A tinge of sarcasm crept into his tone, but he fought to keep his face serious. There was no point in resenting her. He had to preserve his dignity.

"And we can be friends? I mean, we'll still be working together at the Jeffersonian," she continued earnestly.

"Sure," was all Sweets could manage. It was mightily apparent that this meeting was all about making Daisy feel better.

"You really are a great guy," she smiled. "I hope you find someone special."

Lance hated this. He had hoped to be the one to dictate the terms of their reunion—to show her that he had grown, he had changed. Somehow she had beaten him to the punch, stolen his chance to make her regret her decision. His shoulders slumped a little, and he just gazed at her.

"I look forward to seeing you around the Jeffersonian, then. Take care!" Daisy waved and departed, leaving Lance standing there with his mouth still agape. Words were forming and evaporating on his lips. _'What do you say to someone you loved who has completely moved on from you, like you never existed? How can I have been that inconsequential?'_

Lance's eyes followed Daisy out the door. The old man with the beard approached her and she seemed to say something abrupt to him, as he sort of jumped away and began wandering toward the curb. Daisy's petite figured receded into the bustle of Dupont Circle.

For a moment, Lance was frozen in time. But then Booth's words came back to him in a rush, propelling him into motion.

Sweets exited the bookstore and stepped onto the curb. After a moment, he had located the homeless man, who smelled pungent but had very kind, crinkled eyes behind his massive beard.

"Excuse me, sir. Can I help you?" Lance put his hand on the old man's shoulder to steady him as he swayed.

"I told him never to go to the jungle. It's easy to lose your way," the old man raved, his eyes rolling wildly.

"I understand," Lance said. _'A Vietnam vet,'_ he suspected. "Let's find you a safe place." Off he led the veteran—glad for the distraction, glad to be needed.

* * *

Before Daisy knew it, she was back at work at the Jeffersonian. She had taken a few days to move her things into the new apartment she had located on Craigslist. It was a little studio attic affair in an old house above a white-haired woman and her three cats. The place smelled a little like ammonia when it rained, but it would do for a grad student finishing up her dissertation.

What Daisy had told Lance about her transformation in Maluku was true. The dig had been trying—the heat, Dr. Brennan's constant scrutiny, the new people, the strange customs, the stark living conditions. But the flighty part of Daisy's core had been tempered by the ordeal of fieldwork, and she now found herself more able to calmly confront the unknowns that life presented.

Her first test had come back at the Jeffersonian, where Dr. Brennan had a tremendous amount of catch-up work for her interns to do. Thus currently at 9pm on a Tuesday, Daisy found herself in the company of Wendell, peering at the battered remains of an unidentified body from a sea cliff. Apparently Dr. Saroyan and her team had been trying to identify the young victim for months.

Daisy attempted to keep her wits about her, but as she was making little headway, her mind kept drifting to the topic of Lance Sweets. It hadn't been easy for her to see him again. She had missed him in Maluku, and she wasn't lying when she had asked him to remain friends with her. But herein lay the problem: Lance didn't seem to understand that she had been working her whole adult life to become a forensic anthropologist in the image of Dr. Brennan. She had loved him, but it was clear that he would never be willing to leave Washington, DC. He had found his comfort zone and had told her point blank that he wasn't willing to compromise for her career needs. '_I asked him, Will you wait for me? And he said no,'_ Daisy thought to herself. _'He's acting like I just dumped him callously. I asked him to sacrifice for my dreams just this once, and he refused.'_

Part of her wondered if Lance thought that because she was the woman, she should submit her aspirations to his. _'This isn't the 1950s,'_ she frowned.

Daisy knew that the possibility of finding an academic position in DC following the completion of her doctorate was slim to none. If she and Lance hadn't spilt over Maluku, they would have split later on when it came time for her to find a permanent position. Their dreams simply weren't compatible.

"I think maybe we should call it a night," Wendell suggested from across the table, blinking tiredly.

Daisy jumped a little at the sound of his voice but didn't look up.

"But Dr. Brennan won't be pleased," Daisy insisted emphatically. "She wanted us to determine the nature of the damage to the victim's clavicle." She gently caressed the collar bone as she spoke, though bones were the last thing on her mind.

"I know, Daisy, but I'm too tired to think anymore. How about we just go grab a late dinner and go over some of our findings? Maybe if we brainstorm, we'll come up with something," Wendell suggested.

He was already removing his gloves. Daisy noted dark bluish rings under his eyes and guessed that she looked similarly. Her brain was no longer sharp.

"I am hungry," she assented.

* * *

At the Founding Fathers, Daisy and Wendell took a seat at a bar table and ordered a couple of burgers and beers. Daisy removed the rubberband from her ponytail, which felt too tight on her scalp, and shook out her long, chestnut mane. Wendell gazed briefly and then looked down at the salt shakers.

"So how was Maluku? I hear you didn't find much."

She regarded him sharply. "It's true that we found little evidence of Homo floresiensis, but it was good for me. Good for my career. You know, before I left, I already knew that I was brilliant at forensics."

Wendell smiled and shook his head a little. Daisy was not known for being humble. But to his surprise, she watched him carefully and corrected herself.

"No, I'm sorry. That's not what I meant. I mean that I had always succeeded in the classroom, but I wasn't really sure that I had it in me to be out in the field—in the jungle, in danger, in a place like Maluku. Being with my mentor in that environment really gave me the confidence to become my own person. I realize that I don't have to be Dr. Brennan. I can be Dr. Daisy Wick, forensic anthropologist. I may not be exactly like my advisor, but I have my own particular contributions to make to forensic anthropology. Oh sorry, I'm babbling. I know I have a problem with that. I'm working on it," she finished.

Wendell raised his eyebrows in shock. "Wow. You've changed, Daisy."

Daisy opened her mouth nervously to reply, but Wendell continued.

"You've grown as a scholar and as a person. I'm impressed." He also noted that she looked particularly fetching in her yellow blouse.

Daisy didn't thank him but instead changed the subject. "So, is it true that you're roommates with Lance now?"

"Yeah! He's a good guy. We're having a great time—sorry. Is it awkward for me to talk about him?" Wendell fretted.

"No, I brought him up. Lance and I are still friends," she smiled. "We're…"

"—cool?" Wendell offered, finishing her sentence with a grin.

"Yeah. We're cool," she giggled. She looked up at the blond intern coyly through her eyelashes.

The waitress approached.

"Want another drink, Daisy?" Wendell asked.

"I'd like that," she agreed.

In fact, the young duo had three drinks a piece before stumbling out into the street, a little tipsy and very sleepy.

"Here, let me flag you a cab. You going to be ok getting home?" Wendell asked, feeling concern through his mental fog.

Daisy giggled—she had been doing that a lot tonight. "Yes, I'm fine."

She tripped a little on the uneven pavement and bumped into Wendell's firm chest. Before either knew what happened, their lips had met. Daisy's stomach lurched in excitement. It was an electric kiss.

"Hey, ya need a cab or what?" the driver of a yellow taxi called through the open passenger window.

"Yes! Goodnight, Wendell," Daisy said quickly and got in.

As Wendell watched the cab drive off, his stomach lurched, too, but for a different reason.

'_How could I have done this to Lance? How could I have just kissed his ex-fiancée, five days after she got back to town?'_

Wendell knew he was going to have some explaining to do. Lance had forgiven him for the disastrous chili, but this?


	10. Chapter 10

Authors' Note:  Next chapter. Again, sorry for the delay. Both of us have had crazy schedules this month.

We do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. Both of us are very grateful for the support. :)

-**Lessthansign3: **Actually we had read that interview with Michael Terry, and yes, it was one of the things that planted the seed for this fic. But we had also started planning this fic not long after the Season Five finale, so there was a lot that was unknown about Sweets' and Daisy's future at that point. As for the seriousness of Swaisy's relationship, even with our theories, we actually do think that their relationship was serious. We are certain that Sweets was very serious when he proposed, but we also believe that he sensed potential issues and was trying to ignore them instead of face them. Much like Angela and Hodgins did at one point. And as for Daisy...we think she was as serious as she could be at that point in her life, but the fact remains that she was clearly more focused on her career than on Sweets. But again we are going to take a wait-and-see approach for now. Thanks for coming along for the ride into our little AU world. :D -**D: **Haha. :D We do always love your reviews. But as this chapter shows, things are just starting to get complicated...

-**Super Ario: **Rotten? Perhaps. But is it human nature? Very much so from our experiences. We think that this time where the team separated brought forth all kinds of unexpected results in how everyone acts and feels. It certainly seems to be true on the actual show, and we think it shows up here in our fic. And unfortunately as we mentioned previously, things are only going to get more complex from here... -**Peanutmeg: **Thanks for the review as always. Both of us love to write from inside Sweets' mind, so it's fun for us to work in so much internal dialogue for him. We hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

The Shade in the Heart—Chapter 10

Sweets knew that something was wrong, but, as he often did these past few months, he chose to ignore it.

The psychologist had noticed that Wendell was acting increasingly distant and awkward around him for the last two weeks, but he hadn't put much consideration into at first. Over time it became harder to ignore, and Sweets found himself contemplating the situation when he had a few moments of spare time in his office.

In the back of his mind, Sweets knew that he hadn't been the same ever since Daisy came back. The therapist had done everything he could to brace himself for her return, but it had proved to be futile. He felt like he had to start from square one in his quest to move on from his feelings from her.

Sweets suspected that the gloom and introspection that was his usual demeanor these days had finally gotten to his roommate.

'_I can't blame Wendell for wanting to avoid all this,'_ he thought to himself. '_It's depressing and it involves people he has to work with. Who would want to step into that kind of mess?'_

The thought that his inability to get over his feelings could be alienating Wendell frustrated Sweets. As a psychologist, he had been trained to look beyond the surface of emotions and thought patters and to go deeper to find the root of dysfunctional behaviors. And this issue with Daisy certainly qualified as dysfunctional behavior.

But every time he tried to find a therapeutic answer to his problems, Sweets found himself stymied, unable to get around the same tired obstacles of insecurities and doubts that had plagued him for pretty much his entire life.

Realizing that he was making no headway in his personal life, Sweets decided instead to focus on work and on the return of his friends. Both presented their own challenges.

* * *

Earlier that week, Brennan was able to make a breakthrough on the case of the body at the bottom of the cliff. With Brennan returning to the Jeffersonian, fresh insights were quickly being made. While spending an entire night examining the bones in the ooky room, the anthropologist had made an important discovery.

"This break at the mid-point of the left femur is much older than the other fractures," she said. "The remodeling indicates that it happened when the victim was about ten or twelve years old…In fact if you look closely, you can see where a surgical pin was embedded in the bone at one point."

The other interns had been disappointed that they hadn't found that themselves, but Brennan admitted that it was not an easy find.

"The pin is missing, which is why it did not show up on any X-rays," she explained. "When the body hit the rocks and was subsequently tossed about by the tides, the pin must have been dislodged and then it fell out through another crack in the femur and was lost."

Even without the pin though, Cam was able to rule out the missing son of the senator who had been giving her so many headaches.

'_At least this gives Cam one less thing to worry about,' _Sweets had thought to himself.

A couple days later, Angela had examined the pottery shard in evidence in an attempt to digitally re-create some possible objects that it could have come from when she made a discovery of her own.

"This piece is not just Japanese," Angela said. "I'm positive that it's a shard from a piece that was probably made in the early 1600s in the same style as Nonomura Ninsei."

"How can you be so exact with just one shard?" Cam asked her.

"Well, when I did my computer re-productions based off its shape and the design, most of the possibilities looked like pieces that were attributed to him," the artist answered. "I sort of dated a guy who was obsessed with Ninsei and Edo period ceramics. Trust me, the only way I could have learned more about this kind of art is if I worked in a Japanese museum."

"I'll bet that this was one relationship that didn't last very long," the pathologist smiled.

"Yeah but…let's just say that there was more to him at times than pottery," Angela grinned back. "Especially after some sake…Ah, memories."

The combination of Edo period pottery and the broken leg in childhood made it so that they were able to narrow down the possibilities from the missing persons' database. It turned out that the victim was a man named Chase Farber, who was pursuing a masters degree in archeology with a minor in art history at a university close to DC. At first, everyone was elated to have finally identified the victim.

That is until Brennan reminded everyone that a cause of death had still not been found, and after Booth started looking into the victim's personal life.

The day after they had identified the victim, Booth had burst into Sweets' office with a stack of small, spiral notebooks in his hands.

"Look at this, Sweets," Booth huffed as he sat down on the couch. "When I searched the victim's apartment, I found not one, not two, but three 'little black books'. The guy was a relentless player."

The psychologist took one of the books from Booth's hands and started to flip through it. The cover was worn from heavy use and every line in the address book was filled with women's names, phone numbers, addresses and even email addresses. Toward the end of each entry were some symbols along with letters and numbers that seemed to be some kind of code.

"So…we could possibly be looking at dozen of suspects," Sweets mumbled as he read through the names.

"Exactly," the agent sighed. "And this doesn't even include friends, classmates, family…."

"Well…I can try to sort through this while you work on those other leads," Sweets offered. "I'll just need a copy of the victim's phone records if at all possible."

"No problem…and hey, thanks Sweets," Booth grinned as he patted his back. "Call me if you find anything useful."

The task turned out to be a formidable one, but Sweets relished the distraction and ended up spending most of his spare time sifting through the address books for anything that stood out along with trying to crack the victim's code. Once in a while, he thought again about the situation with Wendell and his feelings for Daisy, but Sweets tried to attribute his anxiety to his nagging concerns for Booth and the rest of the Jeffersonian team.

Not that that was much comfort.

* * *

Ever since the team returned from their various forms of sabbatical, Sweets had noted that there was a lack of cohesion within the group.

Cam was still stressed over the many transitions the lab had undergone during that year and was still making adjustments since Brennan, Hodgins, and Angela had returned to the Jeffersonian. Between that and spending more time with Paul and Michelle, the pathologist did not seem as interested in re-connecting with the rest of her team.

Angela and Hodgins were solid in the bliss of their matrimonial state, especially with the recent discovery of the artist's pregnancy. But they were often too preoccupied with each other to pay much attention to the others around them.

And at the core of it all was the strained, awkward relationship that had developed between Brennan and Booth.

They still managed to work together as an effective, functional unit on cases, and once in a while, Sweets observed them launching into one of their colorful, "bickering" talks again. But then a word would be out of place, or a glance lasted too long, and the conversation would immediately shut down.

'_They can work together…but none of them really are together,' _Sweets pondered. '_That spark…that deeply rooted camaraderie…it's not there anymore.'

* * *

_

When he wasn't hard at work on the Farber case, Sweets was consumed with his search to find ways to ease the malaise that had invested the Jeffersonian. The combination of the two tasks made it possible for the psychologist to put his personal problems on the back burner for the most part. It helped….even it if didn't really resolve anything.

After almost a week of work, Sweets had finally managed to come up with a plausible key to the code that the victim used and had compiled a list of names which had stood out in his examination.

Sweets finished up with his appointments for the day and decided to swing by the Jeffersonian with his results. He knew that Booth would be stopping by there, so he figured that he could confer with him there. Plus, the psychologist was curious to see how the case was progressing on the forensic end.

In the end though, Sweets knew that part of the reason he wanted to go was so that he could visit with everyone in the lab. Even with their unaddressed issues, the therapist found that he was happiest when he was surrounded by his friends.

As he walked into the Medico-Legal lab, Sweets spotted Cam signing some forms the lab techs had given her.

"Good evening, Dr. Saroyan," he grinned at her. "Any progress on the Farber case?" Cam smiled back and walked over to him after she finished with the forms.

"Dr. Brennan is still working on cause of death," the pathologist said. "She's not entirely convinced that the fall is what killed him. Wendell is looking over the remains right now in the ooky room….Is that for Booth?"

"Yes," Sweets said, holding up his file along with the address books. "I went over Farber's…um….social network and found some people Booth might want to talk to."

"Well he should be here any minute," Cam said. "But right now, I need to go over some stuff that Hodgins sent me…."

"Oh, of course," Sweets said. "I will talk to you later." He watched as Cam walked off and looked up toward the balcony over the forensic platform.

'_Maybe I'll just grab some coffee while I wait for Booth…'

* * *

_

Meanwhile Angela was walking with Hodgins to talk to Brennan. The entomologist had found some particulates that were of interest on Farber's skull and was going to go over his results with her. Angela ended up walking with him simply because she enjoyed having a reason to spend a little extra time with him and because they had nothing else to do.

As they approached Brennan's office, the anthropologist was walking out.

"Hey Dr. B, got some results for you from the mass spec," Hodgins said. He started to explain that he found some traces of minerals in the samples he had taken from the skull as all three of them walked toward the ooky room. As they reached the doorway though, all of them were startled by a distinctive high-pitched laugh and voice.

The three of them walked in to see Daisy planting a giant kiss on an only slightly reluctant Wendell.

"Oh…my…" Hodgins started.

"Oh God…awkward, awkward, very awkward," Angela began to chant.

"Miss Wick, what are you doing here?" Brennan asked. "You are not scheduled to work this week."

"Dr. Brennan!" Daisy gasped, whirling around.

"Dr. Brennan…um Daisy was stopping by to remind me about…uh," Wendell spluttered.

"Dinner…tonight," Daisy finished for him. "And we sort of…um got carried away."

"Well…I need the results from your exams," Brennan continued, seemingly unaffected by what she had just seen. Hodgins and Angela, having been stunned into silence, quickly took off.

"Um…I left the file in Hodgins' office," Wendell mumbled as he edged out of the room. "I'll…I'll just go and get it."

"And I should be going too," Daisy said, backing out of the room.

Brennan nodded and watched them leave for a moment before turning her attention back to the bones that had been laid out.

As they walked, Wendell was still trying to regain his composure from the events that just occurred.

"Sorry," Daisy said. "I know that that wasn't really the best way for everyone to find out about us."

"It's ok, Daisy," Wendell assured her, putting his arms back around her. "They would have found out eventually anyway. I suppose we were just delaying the inevitable….But, I think we should keep things professional here at work."

"You're so right," she beamed, leaning in to kiss him again.

They were so wrapped up in their kiss they didn't hear Booth and Cam walk up to them.

"What the…?" Cam stuttered.

They also did not hear Sweets approach from the opposite direction…until it was too late.

At first, Sweets was frozen in place. He just could not comprehend what he was seeing in front of him. As soon as the initial shock wore off, though, a variety of feelings slammed into him…none of them good.

'_This…this is why he's…he's been…'_

'_Daisy…she's moved on…with Wendell…with my roommate…'_

'_How long…how long have they been…?'_

Unable to cope with the scene anymore, Sweets dropped the things he was carrying and sprinted off. Everyone was silent and still, not knowing what to do.

Everyone except Booth. He swiftly scooped up Sweets' things and ran after the psychologist, stopping for only a second to scowl at Wendell and Daisy. He ran out toward the parking lot and managed to catch up with Sweets, who was fumbling with the keys to his car. Startled by the agent's approach, Sweets dropped the keys to the ground and leaned against the car.

"Booth…I…I can't," Sweets gasped, teetering closer and closer to losing control. Booth sat the file and address books down onto the hood of Sweets' car and took the therapist by the shoulders, forcing him to face him.

"All right, listen to me…You're going to get through this, ok?" Booth said. "You're going to get into my car. I'm going to take you to the Founding Fathers and get you a tall, stiff drink. If you don't want to talk, we can go over the stuff you've got for me from the case."

Sweets shook his head wordlessly, tears brimming in his eyes, but Booth just tightened his grip on the psychologist's shoulders.

"No, this is not optional, Sweets," Booth told him. "You're coming with me right now, you got that? Do you understand?"

"I understand," Sweets said, his voice wobbly. Booth released him and patted his arms.

"Ok, now let's go," the agent said. "We'll start with that drink because I think it's what you need the most right now."


	11. Chapter 11

Authors' Note: Next chapter. This season has had its ups and downs, but both of us are excited about next week's Brennan-centric episode. :)

We do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/review this.

-**Lives in the now: **Actually the two of us could see this happening as well. While it doesn't say much for Daisy or Wendell, as we have mentioned, it's all too common and human for these sorts of things to happen. Judging from the fact that Sweets is one of the few people Booth still associates in this season, we agree that he would stand by him this way as well. -**Peanutmeg: **Thanks for the review. :) We suspect that the others care, but they just aren't quite the experts in handling Sweets the way Booth is. This is evident in the way it's usually Booth that Sweets goes to for advice and counsel (other than occasionally turning to Cam). We hope you will enjoy this chapter as well. -**D: **We both believe that Booth's talent for dealing with people comes from his instinctive understanding of human nature and from how well he is attuned to others. It really shines through when he tries to help the people closest to him. And as for the code about dating exs...we suspect that Wendell is dealing with some issues of his own. Both of us found it hard to believe that he wasn't affected by his relationship with Angela and how it ended. Daisy can be very alluring and has some positive attributes...the problem lies in her ability to balance that out with the more negative aspects of her personality.

The Shade in the Heart—Chapter 11

Almost two hours later, Booth and Sweets were still sitting at a back table at the Founding Fathers bar, an awkward silence having settled in. By this point, they had shared a couple of "tall, stiff drinks" along with a light meal and had spent most of that time going over the latest particulars of the case.

As it had turned out, not much could be gleaned from the victim's family. According to them, Chase Farber was considered a "free spirit" who let his heart guide him toward his pursuits both academically and romantically. Farber had finally settled on archeology about a year or so ago and was showing a great deal of promise in his work in researching art of ancient civilizations. But his parents knew little about what he was doing outside of the classroom.

After going through Sweets' findings, Booth began to make plans to start interviewing Farber's ex-girlfriends in the hope to find out about more than his class schedules and GPA.

While watching Sweets stare at his drink almost reverently, Booth decided that it was time to broach the subject that they had been avoiding since they had arrived.

"Sweets, this thing with Daisy and Wendell," the agent said softly. "I know that this isn't easy for you…and it probably won't be for a while…but you have to accept it if you ever want to be able to let her go."

"I know," Sweets said, not taking his eyes off his glass. "It's not like I don't understand what you are saying. I am a trained psychologist after all. I've studied the dynamics of relationships, and I've been taught to recognize dysfunctional behaviors. I can see it all in front of me. And I know what I would tell any one of my patients if they were in this situation."

The therapist finally picked up his glass and finished what was left in one giant swallow, instantly regretting it when he coughed a few times.

"But…every time I tell myself all of this…I just can't…I can't do this," Sweets said with some difficulty as the alcohol burned his throat. "I can't let go. Even though I don't want to go back, I still…."

"Are you sure about that?" Booth asked taking a sip of his drink.

"What?"

"Are you sure that you don't want her back?" the agent added.

A part of Sweets was irritated by the question, especially since Booth had strongly advised him to walk away from Daisy. The more he thought about it, though, the more it became a reasonable question.

"I…I don't know," the psychologist finally replied. "For a long while I did want her back. Then I didn't. Now…."

Sweets shook his head and slumped down in his chair, the very picture of defeat.

"Lame," he said. "I should be able to figure this out."

As soon as the words left his lips, Booth chuckled a little and that only served to annoy Sweets again.

"Look Sweets…You're great at what you do, one of the best I've seen. I said it before, and I meant it," Booth said as he took another drink. Sweets could not stop himself from beaming slightly at the agent's words.

"But, you are also human," Booth continued. "A man with the same faults and flaws we all have. I know that you've probably got all of this figured out in that squint brain of yours. But even the best of us struggle with knowing what we should do and actually bringing ourselves to do it."

The agent ate a couple more fries from their communal plate and then brushed off his hands.

"The fact remains that no matter what you want, it doesn't make a difference," he said.

"What?" Sweets asked again. He was starting to hate how slow he felt during this conversation.

"You weren't given any choice in this whole thing," Booth responded. "Daisy left for Maluku. There was nothing you could have said or done that would have stopped her. Of that I'm certain. Your only choices where to either go with her and sacrifice the life you had made for yourself or stay here and let her go…But that was not really a choice, and I believe that deep down, you knew it even then."

Booth finished his drink, tilting his glass upward and then sitting it back down in one fluid motion.

"Now she's back, and she's moving on, once again leaving you with no choice in all this," he added. "And this is a major part of what is eating at you: the fact that all these things that are so close to your heart are out of your hands."

Sweets hung his head; not because he was upset over what Booth was telling him, but because he had managed to get to the core of his problems. The psychologist was about to begin chastising himself for being so transparent while simultaneously being completely blind to the truth of the situation before remembering how skilled Booth was at reading others. Particularly him.

"So what should I do?" Sweets muttered.

"About what to feel about Daisy, Wendell and that whole mess?" Booth asked. "You're on your own on that one. I can't tell you what you should or shouldn't do there. But I can offer one piece of advice: don't be so hard on yourself while you work through this. Chances are you're going to be as confused as hell while you sort this out. So stop holding yourself to some ideal clinical standard."

Sweets nodded and tried valiantly to choke down some more of the food on his plate. He knew that Booth would interpret his not eating as a sign of distress and didn't want to concern the agent anymore.

"Don't worry, Sweets, you'll figure this out eventually," Booth said, patting his shoulder. "Just make sure to give yourself some time and to cut yourself some slack."

"Thanks Booth," Sweets murmured, gratitude coursing through every fiber of his being.

* * *

After an hour or two more spent talking about work, Booth drove Sweets back to his car at the Jeffersonian parking lot.

"You sure you're good to go home?" Booth asked him as he parked next to the psychologist's vehicle.

"I have to do it sometime," Sweets shrugged.

"All right…I'm going to bring in some of those ex-girlfriends tomorrow for questioning," Booth said. "I'm going to need you to help out with that since Bones is so tied up at the lab these days."

"Sure," the psychologist nodded as he got out of the car. He slammed the door and started to pull out his keys.

"Hey…Sweets," Booth said, leaning toward him. "Whatever you decide…."

Booth didn't finish his sentence, but Sweets understood the meaning: whatever he decided, Booth was on board with him.

"Thank you, Booth," he said while trying to smile. "For everything." Booth nodded and sat back up in his seat.

"See you tomorrow," he said before driving off. The psychologist watched him leave before getting into his own car, feeling somewhat strengthened by Booth's show of support. He then began to drive home, purposely choosing a more scenic route that made it so that it took longer than usual to get there. Sweets knew that he needed the extra time to ready himself for the situation at home.

And he also needed time to be sure that he could live with the decision he had made regarding his roommate.

* * *

The next morning, the Medico-Legal lab was nearly empty save for a few of the lab techs and other staff who were early starters. Hodgins walked in, hoping to get some time in with his latest batch of cocooning caterpillars before starting on his duties for the day. First and foremost on his plate was trying to narrow down the origin of the trace elements he had found on Farber's skull.

As he walked down the hall, the entomologist noticed movement in one of the ooky rooms. He walked in to find Wendell hunched over Farber's remains.

"Good morning…Wendell," Hodgins said with more than a little stiffness. The intern jumped at the greeting.

"Dr. Hodgins," he said, blinking and yawning. "Sorry, you startled me ….Anyway, I was going over the skull again. Dr. Brennan wants to see if I can figure out what caused this injury to the right parietal area. Did you need it for something?"

"Dude…what are you thinking?" Hodgins asked. Wendell sighed and leaned against the table.

"I'm going to take that as a 'no'," the intern muttered.

"I mean, Daisy…of all people," Hodgins continued. "Why?"

"Look, I know that she still has her…quirks, but she's not the same person she was before going to Maluku," Wendell replied.

"This is not a critique in your taste in women," Hodgins said. "This is about dating your roommate's ex. I mean, you had to know how messy that would be. And now you probably have to find another place to live and…."

"No, I'm not," Wendell interrupted. "Dr. Sweets and I talked it over late last night. He said that I could continue to stay there. I offered to move, but he said that he was fine with the way things were."

"Um…what?" Hodgins said, incredulous.

"He said that he understood that Daisy had moved on," Wendell said, starting to pace. "Yeah, it was a big shock for him at first, but he says that he's moving past it and that I could continue to stay there."

"He really said that he was fine with you dating her?" the entomologist asked.

"Yeah, he did," Wendell nodded. He then frowned though when he saw Hodgins shake his head.

"Look…Wendell, you need to understand something," he said. "What Sweets told you…it may have been nice to hear, but it's also typical of the type of guy he is."

"Which is what?" the intern asked.

"He's the type of guy who is willing to bury his own feelings and desires for the sake of other people," Hodgins said. "I can tell you right now that he's not fine with it, no matter what he says to you."

"How can you be so sure of that?" Wendell said, feeling more than a little defensive.

"Because I've been there," Hodgins responded. "I've been exactly where he is, and I know how I felt at the time."

Wendell turned away, unable to deny the truth of his words.

"But hey, listen to me," Hodgins said. "What happened between me and Angela…it's different than what happened with Sweets and Daisy."

"How?" Wendell asked, confused.

"Because me and Angela…we both played a hand in it," the entomologist replied. "Neither one of us were ready. We had problems that needed working out. But even after we broke up, we both tried hard to care for each others feelings. Especially when we tried to date other people again. Daisy…she's doing all of this alone and without a care in the world. She's the one who broke it off, and it's pretty clear now that she doesn't care about Sweets' feelings. Because she's probably convinced, like you, that Sweets is 'just fine' with all of this."

Maybe you're right," Wendell said, shaking his head. "Maybe he's not happy about this. But I also know what it's like to have someone leave you…to have them move on without any chance of stopping them. And he can't force Daisy to love him any more than I can stop myself from feeling something for her."

Hodgins sighed; he knew that Wendell had a point even if he didn't agree with it.

"All right," Hodgins said. "You're right. It's not my place to tell you what to do. Sweets made his decision as far as all this goes, and he's the one who has to live with that. All I'm asking is that you don't kid yourself for one second into thinking that this isn't tearing him up inside. No matter what he says to you."

The entomologist walked out, and Wendell leaned over the remains again. Even with Sweets' soft, conciliatory words still running through his mind from last night, Wendell knew that Hodgins was probably right about this affecting the therapist to some degree. He just hoped that Sweets would learn to accept the situation the same way Hodgins eventually did.

'_He probably will,' _Wendell told himself. '_Sweets is a good guy…much like Hodgins. He'll move past this and find his own way.'_

Still, Wendell was sure that he would always carry at least a sliver of guilt around until he knew for sure that Sweets not only accepted the loss but was also able to accept the new reality of him and Daisy.

* * *

A few hours later, Hodgins wandered into Angela's office, carrying some takeout for them to share. He sat the bag of food down on her desk and pulled up a chair to sit next to her.

"Ok, you should have seen the look on the guy's face as I ordered it, but here you go," Hodgins said. "Egg salad with mustard, pickles, and a dab of horseradish."

"Thanks," Angela grinned, leaning over to kiss him. "And by the way, expect it to only get weirder as this kid keeps growing."

"Hey…whatever my goddess wants, she will get," he grinned. The two of them ate in silence for a couple minutes before the artist began fidgeting in her chair.

"So…Wendell probably has to scramble to find new digs now," she said, nibbling on the crust of her sandwich.

"Nope," Hodgins said. "Sweets is letting him stay as long as he needs to. He actually told Wendell that he was all for his dating Daisy."

"You're kidding?" Angela frowned. "And Wendell believes that line of crap?"

"Apparently so," Hodgins said. "Sweets has got him convinced that he has no problem with any of this."

"Poor Sweets," Angela said. "He shouldn't have to do that."

The entomologist nodded, and they took a few more bites of food before Angela grabbed his hand.

"Jack…what's happening to all of us?" the artist asked. "I mean there's Sweets, shutting himself away from everything, trying not to interact with the world. There's Cam, who's so stressed out that she's not even trying to keep us together the way she used to…And then there's Brennan and Booth."

Both of them nodded at this, having noticed the changes between the agent and the anthropologist.

"Booth never comes around anymore, and Brennan hides out in the lab," she continued. "But you can see that they want to say something to each other. That there's something there that they need to get out. But it's like they can't bring themselves to do it. In the past, I would have said that Sweets could be the one to fix all of this…But now, I think he needs fixing about as bad as the rest of them do. We used to be a family…Now, I don't know what to think."

"I know what you mean, Ange," Hodgins said, picking at the salad that came with his sandwich. "It's like we're all back, doing what we did before…but it's not the same. Not at all."

"Well you know what…I think we should do something," Angela said, straightening up in her chair. "We can't just sit here and let everything fall apart."

"You're right," Hodgins said. "But what should we do?"

"I'm not sure yet," the artist said thoughtfully. "But I do know that families help each other when they're down…And I'm not about to bring this child into the world without getting ours back together."


	12. Chapter 12

Authors' Note: Next chapter. We both would like to mention that we thought that last night's episode was amazing. :) Both of us were inspired by Brennan (and by Sweets' kindness to her) and it will probably show in our upcoming work...

We do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. :)

-**Peanutmeg: **Yes, the two of us were also rather disappointed that Daisy kept pressuring Sweets to help cheat on the exam. We think back to The Dwarf in the Dirt where Wyatt pointed out to Sweets that Booth didn't really want him to put himself in hot water professionally which might have been a possible dilemma for Sweets at the beginning of the episode. While Sweets has shown his willingness to put his career and reputation on the line in the past (The Hero in the Hold for example) both of us get the sense that Booth would not want him to do something that could seriously get him fired...which is what Daisy was requesting. Thanks for your reviews as always. :) -**Lives in the now: **We were also kind of amused at how some of the things we planned out in our fic have mirrored the show to some extent, even though we plotted this well before the season started. :) We sometimes wish that this how the season was actually playing out: with a greater focus on pulling the team back together. And yeah, we had thought about how Hodgins was bound to have an unique perspective on this considering what happened to him, so we're glad that you enjoyed how his character played out. Expect this to not be the last word from him on all this...

-**D: **We can relate. Last week's episode did not endear Daisy to us. We've been hoping that Daisy would show the same kind of growth that Brennan did as a result of spending that time in Maluku, but while she does seem to show better behavior in the lab (or maybe the team has just gotten used to her), she does not seem to be showing improved maturity as far as Sweets goes. It seems like she will continue to take advantage of him as long as he will let her. Sadly, Sweets is the type who is willing to let someone he loves do just that. His self-esteem issues often lead him to believe that he doesn't deserve any sort of happy relationship. It's probably his most glaring weakness (along with his tendency for jealousy), and he needs the assistance of his Jeffersonian family to help him overcome it.

The Shade In the Heart-Chapter 12

The next day was a long one for Angela. She'd had a mountain of little details on the case to attend to and very little time to reconsider the conversation she'd had with Hodgins.

First, she had painstakingly simulated the possible time-line of the ocean's erosion of Farber's body on her computer, while Cam and Brennan looked on with glassy eyes, neither really interested. Even Angela had to admit that watching the body be pummeled by waves into its current battered state brought few new insights into the mystery. Then for Booth, Angela had spent hours cataloguing photographs from Farber's house, trying to identify women he had dated. Finally, Angela had stopped by the platform to see if Cam needed anything else before the artist left for the night, but Cam seemed irritable and distracted. Brennan was berating Wendell for forgetting to check something or other and their resulting discussion sounded like each had contracted a serious case of scientific jibber jabber to Angela. She edged away toward her sanctuary. With guilt she had to admit she was a little glad that Brennan was coming down on Wendell. The intern was officially in everyone's doghouse.

The artist lumbered into her office and plopped drowsily into her chair. Her pregnancy was hardly showing, but her ankles were swollen, and she was bone tired. Perhaps she was just weary from the pall that had descended upon the Jeffersonian. She reached down to pat her small paunch and began to ponder the recent changes to the team once again.

'_Was it worth going to Paris?'_ she wondered. _'I'm closer than ever to Jack but at the expense of my larger family here.'_

It seemed like when Booth and Brennan had parted ways for Afghanistan and Maluku, they had let go of their friends like so many balloons. The team members were drifting around in space without connecting.

'_There has to be something I can do to bring everyone back together—to remind us of how much we all need each other,'_ Angela thought to herself. _'But that distance that has grown between Booth and Brennan seems insurmountable.'_ Angela couldn't exactly put her finger on the nature of the problem—the root cause of their alienation from one another—and therefore could not determine how to fix it. She did know, however, that if Booth and Brennan could reconnect, then healing for the Jeffersonian team would surely follow.

Angela took out a photograph from her desk drawer that she had never gotten around to framing and stared fiercely at it. Her forehead was screwed up in thought, when Sweets quietly entered her office.

"Angela?" Sweets asked a little tentatively. The artist seemed to be concentrating hard enough to ignite whatever it was she had in her grasp.

She didn't look up.

"Angela?" the psychologist tried in a firmer voice.

"Oh God, Sweets, you're like a silent ninja!" Angela started, noticing him at last.

"I said your name twice," Lance pouted.

Angela ignored this and beckoned him over, "Come here and look at these happy fools," she gestured toward the paper in her hand.

It slowly dawned upon Sweets that Angela was clutching a photograph. He peered at the smiling group of people adorned in lustrous reds and surrounded by tinsel and pine. The picture was of the Jeffersonian team's last Christmas together at Brennan's apartment. The two-dimensional, reindeer-antlered Lance was clasping a giant goblet of red wine, his other arm draped lazily around Daisy's shoulders. He shuddered a little at the sight, glad at least Wendell hadn't been invited to the celebration.

Angela noticed Sweets' discomfort out of the corner of her eye but continued gazing quietly for the time being.

"Seems like ages ago, doesn't it?" she nearly whispered.

"Yeah," Sweets offered in a noncommittal tone. He was struggling to pry his mind away from his ex.

"Do you think it will ever be like that again? I mean, so much has changed," Angela continued wistfully.

Sweets shrugged a little. "Yeah, everyone has _definitely_ changed."

Angela detected a bit of an edge to his tone.

"Sweets, have a seat," she replied pointing to her couch.

Lance did as he was told and sat down a little awkwardly in his suit. Angela plopped next to him and put up her aching feet.

"Ooh, I tell you, Sweets. Being pregnant takes a toll on you."

"Do you think Daisy and Wendell are good together? I mean, does it bother you since you used to date him?" Lance frowned at his own outburst, a little surprised at himself.

Angela laughed out loud. "I'm sorry, Sweets, I'm not laughing at you. It's just that was a rather abrupt way of introducing the subject."

Sweets' frown deepened.

"It doesn't bother _me_, but I can see you're sore about it. Are you still hung up on her, or are you just peeved that she moved on to your roommate? I mean, I guess I can understand the latter, but well, let's just say, I wouldn't have been too sorry if Daisy had decided to permanently pursue her dreams in Maluku." Angela sunk her chin down on her chest, as she lazed into the couch.

Sweets followed suit and relaxed some, sinking downward into the comfy oblivion the couch offered.

"I'm not still hung up on her, it's just…"

"_Sweets_," Angela shook her head, detecting untruth.

"Maybe we weren't exactly right, but I put so much effort into working things out with her…"

Angela exclaimed, "SWEETS!" like she was warning him to stay out of traffic.

Sweets whined, "Well. We were engaged."

"What? Oh my God." Angela bolted upright. "When did you get engaged? Why didn't you tell us?" She was genuinely shocked.

Lance concentrated on a spot on the table. He still felt very odd about his past engagement and didn't quite understand why he hadn't confessed it to his friends. Booth and Peter were the only living souls besides Daisy who had known. Unless, that is, Daisy had told Wendell. This thought made Sweets feel mildly sick.

"It was before you and Hodgins got back together," he explained. "I proposed right after that accident on the metro."

"Oh. _Oh_!" Angela gasped, realization dawning upon her.

"There wasn't really an appropriate time to tell you guys, and then, you know there was the Taffet case, and you and Hodgins got married. The opportunity just slipped away." Lance was unable to meet the artist's eyes.

Angela tried hard to secure his gaze, finding his behavior oddly un-Sweets-like. "But Sweets, I guess I didn't know things were that serious. This year must have been really hard on you!"

Lance was still staring ahead. "It's been hard, yes. But Daisy left me to pursue her job. She didn't love me the way I loved her, so I had to move on."

"Yeah, but _have_ you moved on?" Angela asked again, this time more seriously. Then with a naughty glint in her eye she added, "I mean, have you gotten any since you and Daisy split?"

Lance finally glanced up at her and shook his head in irritation, a little smile forming on his lips.

"Well?" she demanded.

"It's none of your business," he complained.

"I'm sorry, but I think the shrink needs shrinking here. There's nothing better than a good tumble to clear your head and move forward from a nasty breakup."

"Let's change the subject, shall we?" Sweets said quickly and then compulsively followed his own suggestion. "The team: I propose that the reason things haven't been running smoothly is that Dr. Brennan and Booth haven't dealt with the emotions stirred up right before they left. In fact, I think that Dr. Brennan may have come to a realization while she was in Maluku." It pained Lance to even say the M-word, but he was trying to intrigue Angela into ditching the topic of Daisy.

She rolled her eyes a little, completely aware of what he was doing, but she bit. "What do you think she realized?"

"That maybe she was wrong about herself. Maybe she _is_ the kind of woman who can cherish logic and yet still develop the emotional bonds necessary to love a man. Maybe she can do it all. I think she's wanted it for a long time and only now is she beginning to trust herself."

Angela replied, "I want to believe that. I've known Brennan a long time, and I agree that she is changing…at a glacial pace. But I think there will have to be some precipitating event—something wrenching to cause her to act on any feelings."

"Like bigger than Booth getting shot and nearly dying in her arms? Bigger than him succumbing to a giant brain tumor, pulling through with mild brain damage, and then confessing his love to her?"

Angela sighed. "I dunno. What I _do_ think is we need them to at least connect on a personal level again. They are what keeps this team running like a well-oiled machine. I think we need to intervene."

"Intervene?"

An idea was occurring to Angela. _'When Sweets is in pain, he always seems to improve when he has someone else to focus on helping. If I can get him to help Brennan, then maybe me and Jack can help him and everyone can heal,'_ she pondered to herself. She was thinking in particular of the time when Sweets had witnessed the death of the young man on the subway, since he had just brought it up. Sweets had definitely gotten through that incident by focusing on helping the team…and apparently prematurely proposing to his ex-girlfriend.

She replied to Sweets, "Maybe you could talk to Brennan about what happened in Maluku. Figure out where she is regarding her feelings for Booth and encourage her to…you know, work it out so things can get back to normal around here," Angela suggested, getting up with a hint of finality.

Sweets followed her with his eyes. "I suppose I could…" he answered with uncertainty, trying to imagine where such a conversation with Brennan could possibly lead.

Angela took his response as an affirmative and nodded decisively. "Hey, it's 7pm!" she exclaimed. "Time for me to get this little one home, consume a tower of eggs with pickles, and then sleep for 12 hours."

Sweets looked a bit aghast.

"Yeah, pregnancy is weird, Sweets. Don't look at me like that!"

* * *

Sweets took himself home shortly thereafter, feeling rather drained. He was looking forward to relaxing on the couch and maybe watching some TV. He hoped Wendell wasn't home. He really just wanted to spend some time alone in peaceful denial of that old Christmas photograph (which had stirred up unpleasant memories of bygone happiness), his conversation with Angela about Daisy (which had confused him as to whether or not he really _was_ over Daisy), and Angela's suggestion that he address Brennan's new feelings for Booth (which seemed like a hopeless cause).

He opened the door and looked down for Knox, who normally greeted with excited purrs, begging to be pet, but he found no little white-socked cat in the hallway. Instead the TV was cacophonously blaring from the other room. Lance grumbled a little but pressed on to be a polite roommate and say hello.

After hanging up his coat he entered the living room. To his horror, he had discovered the location of his little gray friend. Knox was curled up half on Daisy's lap and half on Wendell's, his eyes little slits of ecstasy. Lance couldn't hear him purring over the sound of the bombs being dropped on whatever movie was assaulting his ears, but he could almost see the cat vibrating. Daisy and Wendell were holding hands, fingers interlaced. It was the very picture of young love.

'_It's like Knox has moved on from me to them,'_ Lance thought in misery. He managed a weak smile to the couple, who silently waved at him, and then dashed off to his room.

The psychologist sat briefly on the bed in his room staring at the wall and came to a decision.

He grabbed his phone and dialed. "Dr. Brennan? This is Dr. Sweets."

"No, no, it's nothing case related," he answered the confused voice on the line. "I just…could you meet me in half an hour? There's something we need to discuss."


	13. Chapter 13

Authors' Note: Next chapter. We are saddened that Bones is on its winter hiatus right now, so we hope to fill in some of the waiting with some fic chapters. :)

We do not own Bones or any of its characters

Thank you again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It is always appreciated.

-**Lives in the now:** Sad yes, but we are with you in seeing this as a very real scenario in this situation: Sweets convincing Daisy and Wendell that it's "just fine" if they meet in his apartment. Sweets has an unfortunate tendency to swallow his feelings for the sake of others. And we agree with you that Brennan and Sweets have a knack for helping each other in their friendship...And yes, we agree that Angela is going to make a great mom. :) -**Peanutmeg: **We agree that it's disappointing that the writers are taking this direction with Daisy's character. We were hoping for a similar spurt of growth like the one Brennan is experiencing since returning from Maluku. Thanks for the review and we hope you enjoy this chapter. As for future conversations, considering **RT**'s fondness for writing scenes with Sweets and Booth, you can expect more in the future. ;)

-**Whylime:** Oh no problem on the reviews. We're glad that you're enjoying thus far, and hope you'll like this update as well. And yes, cats can be fickle creatures at times. -**D:** Well despite the fact that both of us are the proud owners of cats, we will admit that they can shift loyalties pretty easily at times. Still we know they love us in the end...Sweets might not be aware of this right now. And we are sure that our fic is not endearing you to Daisy in any way (though I doubt any thing we write could at this point). But while we try to be fair, we will admit that we are expressing our frustration with Season Six Daisy in this fic to some degree...Both of us would also agree with you that Booth shares this quality with Sweets where they work through their problems by focusing on others. The two of us often feel that Sweets shares much in common with Booth...And don't worry, we're not updating so fast that you are out of sync. Besides, we always look forward to your reviews, in sync or not. :)

The Shade in the Heart -Chapter 13

Dr. Brennan had agreed to meet Sweets at 8, but she had requested that he swing by her apartment. She was in the middle of eating dinner and didn't feel much like going out again. She found that she had been quite fatigued lately. She couldn't possibly still be jet lagged from Maluku, but ever since she had returned, she had noticed a kind of weariness that could not be slept off. She tried not to think about what could be the source of this undesirable development. As she heard Sweets' knock, she couldn't help but feel disappointed. It used to be Booth who would come over at the end of a long day and share a drink with her in one of their apartments or perhaps the Founding Fathers. Sweets seemed a poor substitute at this moment.

Lance had been planning his attack on the car ride over. _'Dr. Brennan likes to feel useful—like her talents are contributing to an outcome. I'll have to get her to realize that her relationship with Booth is central to the health of the team.'_

With Brennan, he always felt a bit unsure of the outcome of their talks. Often she appeared to listen to his advice and then proceeded to misinterpret it completely. Other times she dismissed his advice and then followed it to the letter. He wondered which course she would take tonight.

Brennan opened the door wearing jeans, a simple turquoise sweater that contrasted with her emerald eyes, and a smooth, red-stoned necklace.

"Come in, Dr. Sweets. Would you like a drink?" she asked, already turning and pouring an enormous tumbler of whiskey.

"Er—no, I don't drink whis—"

Dr. Brennan was shoving the drink into his hands and gesturing to her plush leather couch. He accepted the drink and tried to take a sip, but the liquid felt like acid scalding his lips.

"Booth and I always drink whiskey at the end of a hard day," she informed Lance.

Lance decided to try that as a point of entry. "Has it been a hard day?" he asked.

Brennan eyed him warily. "I thought you came here to discuss something urgent."

"I did."

The anthropologist set down her glass with a 'thunk' and folded her hands in preparation.

Sweets continued, "The team is hurting, Dr. Brennan. I know you've noticed it. Everyone is on edge; no one is connecting. The problem is…well you, actually."

"Me!" Brennan rang out incredulously, a bit offended.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Sweets said quickly. "It's just that you and Agent Booth are the cornerstones of this team, and when you are shaky, we all suffer."

Brennan's eyes shone with fire. She pursed her lips and didn't speak.

"I think you realized something in Maluku, something you might not be willing to share yet, and that's ok. You don't have to. But perhaps you should spend some time alone with Booth—and I don't mean out in the field on a job. I mean some time alone as friends where you can reconnect. Tell him about your experience in Indonesia; find out a little bit about Afghanistan."

"And how exactly would that help the team?" Brennan asked sharply.

"You're an amazing forensic anthropologist, and you also happen to be a very good friend. But I'm the one who's good at psychology. Just trust me on this."

Brennan scoffed a little, clearly intimating that being good at psychology was the last skill she would ever desire.

"When you and Booth have made amends, we will all benefit."

"Amends? We're not in an argument."

"No, you're in limbo."

"Is that some kind of reference to Booth's Roman Catholicism? Because I'm not religious," Brennan said, growing bored.

"Do you say that kind of thing just to see if it will get me to stop talking?" Lance asked, with a little laugh.

"Yes," Brennan said simply and resumed taking large swallows of her booze.

"I think you know what I mean, Dr. Brennan," Lance encouraged.

"I don't know what you want me to say to Booth. After all, you are, as you remind me, the expert in psychology," Brennan replied coolly.

"I told you, share your experiences from—"

Brennan interrupted, her eyebrows in a severe, straight line, "We've already discussed our trips. What are you really asking me to do?"

"I'm asking you to be honest. Tell Booth that you missed him. Tell him you aren't sure where you two stand."

"I'm not going to do that, Sweets." There was something in her eyes that seemed heavy and dark.

"Why not?"

Brennan finished her drink, while Lance's remained virtually untouched. "I'm tired," she said, looking at the door: the universal signal of 'please leave.'

Lance nodded and did as her social signal suggested. Just outside her apartment door he thought to himself, _'She didn't have a good reason for why she shouldn't tell him. For once, she had no excuse. She realizes she missed him—maybe even that she loves him.' _This thought instantly elated him. He felt a lightness he hadn't experienced since Peter had been in town. He dashed down the stairs and out into the cool night and took a giant swallow of fresh air.

* * *

The next morning, Sweets was having coffee on the loft overlooking the lab. He had come by thinking he could be of help on the case, but when he saw that Daisy was working on the platform, he'd quickly relocated to the second floor. He gazed down at the solitary figure of his old lover, who was concentrating on the corpse before her. All of a sudden, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Lance jumped violently; coffee flew from his mug like a miniature geyser.

"Angela!" He felt a little guilty that he had been caught staring at his ex.

Angela glanced down at the platform below and clucked her tongue.

"Sweets, remember what I said yesterday? The only remedy for getting over an old flame who has moved on to a coworker is bedding someone sexier, smarter, and more beautiful," Angela said, hands poised smartly on her hips. She had on her blue lab coat with the crazy, colorful squiggles at its collar.

To his dismay, Lance realized that Dr. Brennan had accompanied Angela and heard her comment. Brennan was pouring herself coffee and looked pensive. Lance wondered if she'd given anymore thought to their conversation from last night, but he didn't feel like letting Angela's uncouth comment go without a fight.

Lance shook his head in irritation. "_Bedding_, Angela? That's great. Thanks." Angela as matchmaker was not a comforting thought.

Angela rolled her eyes and poured Lance some more coffee. "Fine, dating. Whatever. The point is, I know just the female to drag you out of your funk." She sat down on one of the couches.

"What funk?" Lance threw up his palms in defiance.

In fact, he felt much less in a funk today than he had yesterday. Pushy Angela was grating to be sure, but he was glad to know that the Jeffersonian team was on his side…not that this was a contest. Still somehow he took comfort in knowing that Daisy was downstairs alone, and his friends were upstairs concerned for his welfare.

Brennan plunked down and crossed her leg. Lance positioned himself next to her across from Angela, as if the anthropologist might put out a protective force field from Angela's impending suggestion. He crossed his own leg and began shaking it in agitation.

Brennan turned to Sweets knowingly and said, "In Orthodox Jewish culture, professional matchmakers are known as 'shadchans.' Matchmaking is often known as a 'mitzvah,' or good deed."

Lance returned Brennan's gaze, wholly unamused. "Remember how we discussed not substituting empty trivia for meaningful conversation?"

Brennan glared prettily.

Angela jumped in, "There's a new intern over in Egyptology—"

"Not another intern!" Sweets instantly objected.

Angela continued undeterred, "_And_ she's got a sister who is single and a triathlete. Hodgins mentioned you are training for a race. You'd have something to bond over. And if I do say so myself, the gal in Egyptology is smoking hot! How bad can her sister be?"

"Famous last words," commented Hodgins, who had wandered up in search of some company. "What are we doing?" He was like a puppy eager to get into trouble.

"_We_ aren't doing anything," Lance said, slurping some coffee and scalding his lower lip. "I don't like blind dates. I don't make a very good first impression," he pouted.

Even as Sweets uttered this his crossed leg slipped, causing his coffee to splash violently. Brennan narrowed her eyes, beating a hasty retreat toward the opposite end of the couch, while Angela and Hodgins laughed.

Hodgins was suddenly on board. "You should do it, Sweets! It'll be great. I hate to see you mop—"

"I do not mope!" Sweets protested. He looked at Brennan for assistance, despite the fact that she had failed him a moment before.

Dr. Brennan's green eyes were wide. "I think you should go, Sweets. You seem distinctly less jovial than usual." She cleared her throat. "I too have been considering dating again. Perhaps Angela has another friend…"

"No," Angela cut off Brennan briskly. "I only have the one friend."

Brennan seemed disappointed. Angela and Hodgins almost imperceptibly rolled their eyes at each other.

"Well, everyone thinks you should give it a try…_Mr. Adventure,_" Hodgins smiled, making reference to a conversation he and Lance had once had about Daisy's lack of faith in Sweets' pluck.

Lance opened his mouth in mock horror. "That was low, Hodgins."

"Below the belt," Hodgins concurred merrily.

"So, should I arrange it? I think it should be tonight before you change your mind," Angela suggested.

Lance couldn't believe he was agreeing to this. It was amazing what social pressure could instigate. He wondered if Booth's recent show of affection for him as well as his talk with Dr. Brennan last night had broken the spell of melancholy hanging over him. Now that he thought about it, somehow knowing that Brennan was grappling with strong feelings she couldn't quite manage made him feel more able to handle his own.

"Fine," he mumbled. Then, though he couldn't understand why, he grinned.

* * *

Angela had told Sweets to meet the mystery woman—Donna Brewster—at the Founding Fathers at 8. Despite Lance's best efforts to be optimistic, he kept imagining Punky Brewster, the luridly- attired orphan from the 80s sitcom. Lance had been too young to watch the show when it aired, but he'd seen Punky on a VHI special about TV shows in the 80s. The thought of this woman showing up in a side ponytail made him giggle. Maybe it was the nerves.

For the moment, Lance was still at the Jeffersonian, as he had gotten sucked into going over some photographs with Angela. It was a quarter to 8 now, and his hands were starting to shake in anticipation of his blind date. He decided to wrap up work and head for the door.

"Remember, don't put pressure on it. Just enjoy yourself," Angela advised with a grin.

Lance found he wanted to push Angela into a pool right now, but luckily for the artist, there was no water in sight. As he was about to exit the building, Daisy came rushing back in the doors nearly toppling over her ex-fiancé.

"Lance!" she exclaimed.

"What is it Daisy?" Sweets asked with concern. He noticed that her eyes were round and earnest.

"I have a flat tire. Can you help me?" she blurted.

Lance wasn't fond of attending to automobiles. He had learned to drive later in life than the average person and had spent much of his licensed years in cities where cars weren't necessary. Consequently, he knew little about auto care other than what his father had taught him in passing.

"Why don't you just call AAA?" he tried, hoping she would take his advice and leave him to his miserable blind date.

"Can't you just look at it?" she begged instead, bobbling her head.

By the tone of Daisy's voice, Lance almost felt like she was about to add: "A _real_ man would be able to handle this." He realized that in order to preserve his dignity, he was going to have to suck it up and get down on his hands and knees in his favorite suit. That's what Booth would do.

Several minutes later, this was exactly the position Lance found himself in, crouched down peering at a tire that clearly had a nail in it.

"Do you have a donut or a spare?"

Daisy shook her head impatiently.

"Well, you've got a nail," he pronounced, feeling rather professional, having correctly diagnosed the problem. "You should probably call…Wendell for a ride home," Lance choked out his roommate's name. "You might have to get it towed."

The petite brunette finally agreed with a sigh. She appeared harassed by the whole situation.

"Look, I've gotta go. I have a…I'm late. For a date," Lance finally decided to add with a tiny flicker of vengeance.

Daisy seemed vaguely surprised but then quickly shuffled off to phone her boyfriend. "Thanks anyway," she called abstractly.

* * *

By the time Lance got to the Founding Fathers, he was 30 minutes late. He saw a slight woman at the bar with dirty blonde hair and guessed from Angela's description that this was his companion for the evening.

"Excuse me, but are you Pu—Donna Brewster?" Lance asked, catching himself just in time.

The woman turned. Donna was very plain and had rather stringy locks pulled into an athletic ponytail. She seemed to have just dashed from the gym to meet Lance. She was wearing an olive polar-fleece vest and droopy black pants.

"Yes," she squeaked. She appeared quite timid.

"I'm sorry I'm late. My—uh, a _friend_ needed a hand with a flat." Lance immediately sensed in Donna's reaction that she perceived that he was late because he had been attending to another woman. "What are you drinking?" the psychologist asked awkwardly in hopes of recovering.

"Ice water," Donna responded flatly. She was one of those people who answered questions in as few words as possible. It was going to be a long night.

"So, I hear you are an athlete?"

Donna nodded. Just when it seemed that she didn't plan to expand, she miraculously continued, "I'm training for the upcoming tri here in DC."

Lance almost hesitated to admit, "So am I." He already felt so bored with this conversation that he had a brief fantasy about ordering a stiff drink, getting drunk, and making a wild scene just to get a reaction out of this woman. Of course, that wasn't him. After far too long a silence, during which Donna appeared to have become comatose, he tried again.

"What do you do when you're not training?"

Lance almost considered checking her pulse when Donna ran a hand over her slightly greasy hair.

"I'm an actuary," she offered.

'_Good God_,' Lance thought. '_Leave it to Punky to not only be monosyllabic, but have the most dull job in the world.'_

Sweets thought long and hard about what he could ask an actuary and still remain conscious. He came up dry. In fact, the whole situation was so ludicrous that he almost began laughing, but he was not a cruel person. The situation was awkward for both of them.

"I'm so sorry, Donna, but I'm not really feeling well. I…I have a terrible headache. Do you think we could maybe do this another time?" Sweets heard himself say. It was incredibly rude to be late to meet her and then bail, but he sensed she was also looking for an out.

Donna looked a little sad like she'd predicted from the beginning how this date would turn out, but she merely replied, "Sure. Have a good night." She turned back to her ice water, her shoulders slightly hunched.

Lance strode out into the night cursing the name of Angela Pearly Gates Montenegro. Then, he began to laugh. He laughed so hard that tears sprung to his eyes and a man glanced at him as though fearing the psychologist was a maniac. Sweets didn't care; he laughed all the way home.


	14. Chapter 14

Authors' Note: Yes we are finally back with another chapter. :) This time it was the holidays that made it difficult for the two of us to get much done in the way of writing or updating. But both of us are settling back into our normal routines, so the next few updates should be faster.

We do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It is always appreciated.

-**Peanutmeg: **Thanks for the review. We have also been disappointed with the direction the writers are taking Daisy's character. A part of us was hoping that she would gain some insight the way Brennan did while in Maluku. But sadly they have not gone that route. Glad you enjoyed the blind date. We somehow imagined that Sweets might have been a victim of a few of these in his time. ;) -**Lives in the now: **Well as we all know, Sweets is pretty empathetic, but he's also human. He has his down moments, and his moments where his feelings cause him to misstep. And as you will see in this chapter, all is not what it seems in relation to his outward demeanor...

-**D: **Both of us can definitely agree with that statement about cats since we each have our own "cat shadows" sometimes. And as for Daisy, yes, we agree that the writers seem to be playing up her negative qualities this season. It's almost as if her time in Maluku did not so much convince Daisy that she wanted to hold onto Sweets as much as she realized she hated being unattached from someone like Sweets. Someone who would focus on her and tend to her whenever needed. As for Angela...maybe the pregnancy made her a little loopy there? And no, Brennan is not pregnant, no spoiler there at all. ;) Thanks as always for your reviews.

The Shade in the Heart—Chapter 14

After having a chance to sleep the previous day off, Sweets felt no better about his blind date or much else for that matter.

Looking back on it, Sweets was disappointed in himself for having the mindset he did when he met up with Donna last night. He realized that it was not appropriate for his date and probably not fair to her. He consoled himself with the idea that even if Donna had been exactly the type of woman he had been searching for his entire life, he still would not have been receptive to her.

As he shrugged on his suit and draped his tie around his neck, Sweets considered the notion that Angela's suggestion of a "good tumble" to help him deal with the situation with Daisy and Wendell told him far more about the artist than he sometimes wanted to know. He shuddered a little when he thought back to when Angela was in the early stages of her self-imposed celibacy. While he was now certain that it had been the right suggestion to help Angela re-evaluate her priorities for a relationship and, ultimately, played a small role in her and Hodgins being able to create a new, stronger bond, the therapist could never completely shake the memory of her raging libido.

Still, Sweets couldn't stay upset with the artist; she had been trying to help, after all. He just wished that his friend's efforts hadn't left him feeling even less hopeful about his chances in the dating scene.

Sweets straightened his tie and let out a sigh of resignation. Booth was right in thinking that he would be confused about what to think and feel. The psychologist took some small comfort out of the thought that knowing this ahead of time gave him some kind of starting point to find a way to cope.

But that did not mean he was going to enjoy one moment of this ride.

* * *

Upon arriving at the Hoover Building, Sweets had barely had a chance to look over his appointments and messages from his secretary before Booth bounded into his office, unannounced as always and with a stack of files in his arms.

"Hiya Sweets," the agent smiled. "Ok, so the first batch of women we interviewed turned out to be dead ends since they only went out with Farber a couple times and nothing has popped up from any of the checks the other agents did on them. So I've got another round of women here waiting for questions. I was thinking you could talk to them with me and use your shrinky mojo to sift through them."

Sweets smirked, working hard to bite back another sigh. Sometimes he wondered if Booth saw him as some kind of crystal ball that magically peered into people's minds instead of a rigorously educated and trained observer of human behavior. But that thought was almost always brushed aside with the knowledge that Booth would never rely on him as much as he did if he didn't implicitly trust the therapist's abilities. Thus, Sweets was able to see Booth's references to his talents for what they were: encouragement and praise for what he brought to the agent's team.

This was why, despite his busy schedule, Sweets immediately followed Booth to the interrogation room for several rounds of questioning.

* * *

The first suspect, Melanie Galenorn, had bottle blond hair and a tan that nearly glowed with an unnatural sheen. She kept crossing and uncrossing her legs while regarding Booth and Sweets with her bright blue eyes.

"The thing you need to understand about Chase is that he was a free spirit," she said sagely while leaning back in her chair.

"A free spirit?" Booth said, raising an eyebrow while he sat back down next to Sweets across from her.

"Yeah…He was not the type of guy who was going to let himself be tied down to any one thing," she replied. "He didn't want to be defined by a life as much as by a lifestyle. It's just like his name implies, you know?"

"No we don't know," Sweets said. "Perhaps you could share with us what he meant by…."

"It was never about the goal or the finish line, it was about the chase," Melanie smiled, satisfied at her own insight. "Chase told me that on our first date."

"And you didn't mind that he went out with other women even while he was dating you?" Booth asked.

"Like I said, it was not about the catching, it was about the chase," she said, rolling her eyes. "I knew that I wasn't his 'one and only'. He wasn't mine either, you know. We had an arrangement."

* * *

After a few more questions, they dismissed Melanie and called in their next suspect, a sullen woman named Catlin Collier.

"Look, I'm sorry that Chase is dead, but death is a part of life. There's no escaping it. Chase knew that," Catlin drawled. "Besides, we hadn't seen each other in almost a year."

"What a coincidence. That is around the time that Farber disappeared which makes you one of the last women he dated before he died," Booth said with more than a little snarkiness in his voice.

"So what? You think I had something to do with that?" she sighed as she twirled some of her long red and black streaked hair around her index finger. "If so, you're wrong. I would have never hurt Chase."

"You didn't care that he was seeing other women?" Sweets inquired.

"Lots of other women," Booth chimed in.

"Um, no," she said in a tone normally used to explain things to small children. "We had an arrangement. I understood how it was. Besides, it wasn't just sex between us. We would sometimes talk for hours. About life, the futility of things, all sorts of stuff. He was always telling me about how life's never about the finish line, but about the chase getting there. I suppose his name helped him come to that conclusion. A good one, I might add."

"He made you feel free. Like you were a part of his world for a while," Sweets nodded.

"Yes, exactly," she said with a hint of a smile. "But…"

"Yes?" the psychologist asked, leaning toward her. Catlin began to tap the table; her dark green nails clicking along the surface.

"Right before he….before we moved on, Chase seemed different somehow," she said. "He seemed…I don't know, more serious, contemplative maybe. Like he had some huge question looming over him that he couldn't figure out."

"Do you have any idea what that question was?" Booth asked.

"No…I tried to ask once, but well…Chase was being Chase," Catlin responded. "Didn't really want to get into it with me. I know that it doesn't really make a bit of difference now, but I still wonder sometimes what that question was. And if he ever got his answer."

* * *

Booth and Sweets proceeded to interview some more of Farber's previous girlfriends and dates, but despite the diversity of woman they encountered, their answers were practically the same: Farber was a "free spirit" who would never be pinned down, and they understood that.

"This is starting to feel like another dead-end," Booth huffed as they looked over their results in Booth's office.

"Well we did manage to learn one thing from all this," Sweets offered.

"What? That Farber was fond of using the same pick-up lines over and over again?" the agent said.

"Well, yes that," the psychologist nodded in full agreement. "But it's also becoming clear that Farber was able to create and maintain relationships that were based on intense feelings with minimal expectations of commitment."

'_And he was depressingly good at it,' _Sweets added to himself silently while wishing he could fathom why Farber had been so successful while he struggled to find even one fulfilling relationship.

"We need to look for something outside his normal dating circles," Sweets continued. "Someone who was either unable to be a part of Farber's 'dating web' or someone who he promised more to, either explicitly or implicitly…Someone who didn't get his usual treatment."

"Right, so someone who wasn't part of one of his arrangements," Booth nodded.

"Exactly," the psychologist said. "I'm thinking that Farber's murder could have something to do with this epiphany that Catlin mentioned. Find someone who wasn't part of the victim's normal game, and you'll probably find his killer."

"Great, thanks Sweets," Booth grinned while slapping his arm with a file playfully. "I know just where to start too."

"Where?"

"With that roommate of his," the agent replied. "I'll have him come in tomorrow for some more questions."

"Didn't you talk to him already?" Sweets asked.

"Just mainly about his and Farber's whereabouts around the time he disappeared," Booth said. "He's one of the few people who seems to know anything about Farber's life outside of his own dealings with him. This time I want you to talk to him and see if you can find out about this whole 'question' thingy that was bothering him."

"Will do," Sweets said as he left Booth's office. He had a patient scheduled to see him in a few minutes, and he wanted a chance to prepare himself beforehand.

* * *

At the end of the day, Sweets was weary and considered going straight home. But then he remembered Wendell mentioning something about how Daisy had been looking forward to a Star Wars movie marathon tonight and decided to go for a drink instead. As he walked out to his car, the therapist was startled to see Hodgins' car parked next to his and the entomologist waiting for him inside of it.

"Dr. Hodgins?" Sweets said hesitantly. "I was just getting ready to leave for the day, but if you need to see me, I can set up an appointment for…."

"Hey, it's nothing like that Sweets," Hodgins said with a wave of his hand. "I was thinking we could head off to the Founding Fathers. For a drink and…to talk?"

"Um, sure. I'll follow you there," Sweets said, backing up toward his car.

"Great, see you in a bit," the entomologist said as he started up his car. He then took off, leaving Sweets to slowly climb into his car and drive after him.

As he drove over to the bar, Sweets began to wonder why Hodgins had come to him this way. His mind swiftly formed all sorts of possibilities from more of Angela's well-meaning meddling to some issue that Hodgins was grappling with now that he was back in DC. Figuring that he could easily drive himself crazy with speculation, the therapist decided to let the questions drop and instead focus on getting to the Founding Fathers and finding a parking spot.

* * *

By the time Sweets arrived, Hodgins had managed to snag one of the tall tables alongside one of the walls and was now sipping at a drink. When he spied Sweets, Hodgins waved him over. The psychologist walked over and gave his order for a drink and a sandwich to the waitress that approached them before sitting down.

"Hey Sweets, Angela mentioned that you, Arastoo and…Wendell were training for a triathlon," Hodgins said between sips. "I was wondering if I could join you guys."

"Really?" Sweets said, more than a little surprised.

"Don't ask like that," Hodgins said with a slight scowl. "I'll have you know that I've biked and hiked on numerous trails and in all sorts of terrains for years. I was thinking that since we've got the baby coming and things are probably still going to be hectic at the lab, I could use an excuse to get in shape again. All that rich food in Paris did nothing for me."

"Sorry…sure it's no problem," Sweets said. "We could use someone in our group who's stronger at the biking part of it. I'm sure everyone will be glad to have you."

"Good. Let me know when you are getting together again for training, and I'll be sure to set something up with Cam," the entomologist said. The therapist began to look at him thoughtfully and tilted his head.

"So, it's exciting isn't it? Knowing that you'll be a father soon?" Sweets asked him.

"It's…amazing," Hodgins said with a huge grin. "A baby. Me and Ange. I can't believe it sometimes. I wake up some mornings and look at her, and it still doesn't seem real."

"I'm sure it will become more real as the time grows closer," Sweets assured him. "Especially after the baby arrives."

"I know, right? It really will, I'm sure," Hodgins breathed. "I just hope that…that everything will be good. For Angela and the baby, you know…"

"I'm sure you'll make a wonderful father," Sweets smiled at him warmly. "Angela is sure of it. It's why she's so confident and content during her pregnancy. She's sure that you're the right one to help her raise this child."

"You really think so?" the entomologist said, turning toward him.

"I do," Sweets said, taking a bite of his sandwich after the waitress sat it on the table and left. "I know you might have some worries and doubts. That's natural for people who are about to become parents. But what matters is how you and Angela feel about the baby and each other. I'm sure the two of you can figure out all the rest."

Hodgins grinned again with a dreamy look in his eye and then nudged Sweets in the arm.

"Thanks for that," he said. Sweets smiled back, but couldn't help but notice that Hodgins' expression was quickly becoming somber.

"Listen Sweets about Wendell…" he said. Sweets leaned back and put up a hand.

"It's all right, Dr. Hodgins," he replied. "Daisy's moved on. I can deal with that. It's fine."

"No it's not fine, and you know it," Hodgins said. "Look, I know it sucks when people sit around and tell you that they know how you feel, but the truth is…I kinda do."

Sweets hung his head, unable to deny the truth of what Hodgins was saying.

"I've been where you are…and it hurts," Hodgins continued. "No matter what other people say or what you try to tell yourself, it hurts. And the worst part is when it's someone decent like Wendell who does this to you because then you don't even have the satisfaction of wanting to be angry at them."

"I know," Sweets muttered, still staring at his plate. "Wendell is a good guy. I don't want to be so upset, but I can't stop feeling so alone and…and I know I shouldn't but…"

"But it'd be easier to accept being alone if Daisy were still alone too," Hodgins nodded. Sweets winced; he recognized that as something he had told Hodgins when he was going through his own hurt feelings with Angela. Even though he could sense that Hodgins was trying to comfort him, he wondered if the entomologist had felt those were nothing more than hollow words. Hodgins noticed it when Sweets shuddered a little and reached over to pat his shoulder.

"Hey, I remembered what you told me because it helped me get through that whole thing with Angela," he assured him. "I just want you to be able to do the same here with Daisy, ok? So if you need to talk or just sit here with me for a while, feel free."

"I'd like that," Sweets said, his eyes starting to glisten. "Daisy and Wendell are probably watching a movie together right now, so…could we just stay here for a while?"

"Sure," Hodgins said, finishing his drink. "Take all the time you need."

The two of them ate and drank quietly for a while before speaking again, choosing to move on to other safer topics. As the evening wore on, Sweets was grateful that he was able to draw upon some much needed support to help him through days like today.

* * *

After his late-night with Hodgins, Sweets was a little tired physically, but was feeling more refreshed emotionally. It gave him a better state of mind than he was sure he would have had if he had gone straight home or spent the evening alone, drinking, like he was originally thinking of doing.

Sweets checked in with Booth, but the agent didn't stay long due to his desire to meet with Farber's family, who had called him that morning. The therapist headed off to the room where the victim's roommate was waiting while scanning a file from Booth.

The file mentioned how the roommate, Tim Harding, was twenty-four, single, and was finishing up his master's degree at the same institution as Farber. Apparently the two of them had met during Farber's first year of college when they both took and English class together. Neither of them wanting to live on campus, the two of them moved in together and split the rent and other costs. It had been an agreeable arrangement, and as a result of seeing each other almost every day, Harding knew more than even Farber's family did about the victim's activities.

Sweets sat down and looked at Harding thoughtfully. He could detect a flicker in Harding's eyes. Regret? Guilt? Uncertainty? The psychologist could not be entirely sure.

"I already told that other FBI agent everything I knew about Chase and where he was before he disappeared," Harding sighed. "What else is there?"

"We were hoping that you could give us some more insight into the people he was associating with before he died," Sweets said.

"You mean the women he was dating?" Harding snorted. "Look, there's no way I could tell you much about that. There was simply too many of them to keep track of. All I ever asked is that he not bring too many of them back to our place. Especially when it's getting close to the end of the semester."

"I understand," Sweets nodded. "But was there anyone who stood out at all? Someone who he insisted on bringing back to his place?"

"Not…no not technically," Harding mumbled.

"What do you mean, 'technically'?" the therapist inquired.

"Well, he really didn't seem to care about bringing his…dates back to our place, but there was one or two people he would hang out with there," Harding said. "A couple of guys from the club he used to frequent, and of course, Danielle."

"Danielle?" Sweets asked, quickly interested.

"Yeah, Danielle Harris," Harding said. "She was his lab partner back when he had to take Chemistry during his undergrad days, and then she continued to help him in all of his science courses. Science wasn't really Chase's 'thing' so he needed her help a lot. They still catch up with each other once in a while."

"Did Farber and Danielle ever…?"

"Did they ever go out?" Harding smirked. "No. Not sure why. It's not like Danielle could be considered ugly by any stretch of the imagination, and I'm pretty sure there was some interest on her part. But Chase never did use his charms on her for some reason."

"Was there anything that seemed to be occupying Farber's mind before he disappeared?" Sweets asked. "Something related to his studies or perhaps to the people in his life?"

"He did seem distracted, but I didn't take it seriously," Harding answered. "Chase went through these phases where it looked like he was about to get serious about his life and then it fell through. I couldn't really tell you what it was this time that had him considering the prospect of growing up for a change."

Sweets went through a few more questions, but was not able to glean much more that Booth could find useful. As he finished up, Harding leaned toward him.

"Look, I know that some of the stuff I said about him sounded pretty bad, and yeah, sometimes he could be a real pain," he said. "But the truth is that Chase was a good guy. He was smart, nice to practically everyone he met, and did his best to always do the right thing. I'm sorry that he's gone, and I hope that you catch the guy who did it."

Sweets nodded and gathered up his files while indicating to Harding that he could go. As he walked toward his office, the psychologist could not stop thinking about Farber's roommate had said.

'_I guess I'm not the only one who's been saddled with the perfect guy who all the women want to date,' _Sweets thought darkly. '_I wonder how Harding dealt with it.'_

The therapist shook himself; he knew that it was not a good idea to get too caught up in identifying with a victim or any possible suspects or witnesses. He decided instead to go have a sandwich at the Royal Diner while reading his paper as a way to clear his head.

Sweets hoped that while he was there, he would find a way to face the prospect of all the evenings of movie marathons and nights spent together in a closed bedroom that he was sure was yet to come courtesy of Daisy and Wendell. As it stood now, the therapist wondered how long it would be before he started to entertain thoughts of joining Farber at the bottom of that cliff.

Sweets suddenly felt chilled, and decided that he should wait and see if Booth would join him for lunch instead.


	15. Chapter 15

Authors' Note: Next chapter. Again sorry for the delay in updating. As it turns out Real Life has been rather busy for RT lately and thus, it's been difficult for her to find time for writing or updating. Hopefully the problem will be easing out in the next couple of weeks.

We do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

-**Rankor01: **Thanks for the review. We do like to re-think Bones from Sweets' perspective a lot, so it's great that it still retains the feel of the show for you while still keeping things in his unique viewpoint. And there is definitely more to come in regards to the case and to Sweets' situation with his roommate and ex... -**Peanutmeg: **Thank you. We both kind of imagine Sweets being the type to want to work through his thought with someone he trusts. These days we picture the closest one to him who could do that is Booth. We hope you enjoy this update. -**Lives in the now: **When we were planning this fic, that was always in the back of our minds: how Hodgins went through a somewhat similar (and yet different) sort of thing with Wendell. Thus, we did want to include his reaction to all this. And thank you for the encouragement on the case side of things. Often planning out that side of a fic can be even more difficult than the character side. :) Thanks for the review. -**D:** Well to answer question #1: does it surprise you that Daisy is too clueless to consider that as a good idea? And that Wendell is living in denial? As for question #2...that will come out as the fic progresses. :) Also I'm not too surprised at your reaction to Daisy in this. While we were trying to make her realistic to her character, we imagined that she would not be popular at all. The two of us have ideas of how we would like this season to turn out, but we don't want to jinx it by sharing it with everyone...;)

The Shade in the Heart -Chapter 15

Just as Sweets took out his cell phone to see if Booth felt like having lunch, his phone flashed with an incoming call. It was Booth.

"Sweets, meet Bones and me outside. We're heading over to Farber's apartment building to question the super. I talked to him on the phone, and he said he saw something suspicious around the time that Farber disappeared."

"I'll be down in a second," Sweets responded briskly.

Lance supposed he would have to skip lunch, but at least he wouldn't be alone with his thoughts. Booth and Brennan would be a pleasant distraction, even if they hadn't been quite acting themselves lately. As the psychologist whisked out of his office he had a disquieting feeling that gave him pause. It was a flash of anger, almost rage, mingled with jealousy.

Even more disturbing, he realized the growing flame of ire in the pit of his stomach was directed at Wendell. He stood in the doorway of his office and composed himself with a few deep breaths.

'_Feeling upset is normal. It will pass,'_ he reassured himself. _'The facts of this case are probably contributing.'_ But he was displeased to discover that the basest of human emotions had infected him. He had often worried that the darkness that had infected his childhood hovered above him, like a curtain waiting to fall.

'_This is ridiculous,'_ Sweets criticized his line of reasoning. _'I'm probably just hungry.'_

He dashed back to his desk drawer, took out a Power Bar, and then headed for the elevator, determined to empty his mind and focus on the task at hand.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Sweets, Booth, and Dr. Brennan were standing outside of Farber's apartment building with the super. They had driven there in strange silence, and for some reason, Dr. Brennan had sat in the back seat rather than up front. Lance had stolen a few glances at her, and her lips appeared pursed in concentration. Once Lance had tried to speak, but Booth had cleared his throat to cut short the psychologist. All of this struck Sweets as very odd.

The super, Donald Castelucci, was a short, rotund Italian man, with a bushy mustache and a pruned face. He had the disconcerting habit of punctuating his comments by flinging his chubby fists just inches from Sweets' nose. The psychologist was in the unfortunate position of standing closest to gesticulating super. Lance kept arching his back to avoid the punches. Booth, noticing this, had a little twinkle in his eye.

Castelucci was describing the woman he had seen gazing up at the window of the Farber-Harding apartment just before Chase had disappeared. Her description matched Danielle's.

"She looked upset, you know. Like her hands were shaking. She just stood out here, glancing up at the window—that one there—and then back down at her hands. Her eyes were kind of wild-like, you know." Castelucci punched at Sweets' nose as he reached the word 'wild.'

Sweets ducked backward and then popped back up like a blowup doll.

Dr. Brennan spoke up, "This was nearly a year ago and your assessment is subjective. How can we confirm that your description is accurate?"

"She's a tough one, eh?" Castelucci smiled knowingly at Booth, who scowled back at him.

"That's a fair question, Castelucci. Answer it," the agent demanded, though he didn't look at his partner. Booth and Brennan avoided eye contact as if their lives depended upon it.

The super shrugged, "I can't give you any proof, but I saw it with my own eyes. I have a steel-trap memory. Used to help me win with the cards, you know. But I haven't been to Vegas in years because of this crap economy."

In order to avoid the particularly brutal punch on the word 'crap,' Lance politely inched closer to Dr. Brennan. She looked at him curiously and then went back to staring intently at the apartment building, almost as if she were looking through it to the rooms within.

"All right, that's all we need, Mr. Castelucci. Here's my card if you remember anything else," Booth said, jabbing a card at the little man, whose eyes were now fixed upon Dr. Brennan's chest. Booth moved to block his view and the super shrugged, retreating back into the brick apartment building.

Even when the Booth-Brennan partnership was strained, Booth was still endearingly protective, Lance noted.

Booth looked at Sweets, still avoiding Bones. "Think he was honest?"

"Could be a suspect," Lance responded, though in retrospect he had to admit he hadn't been particularly observant of the man other than to avoid his fat fists. He had been thinking more about his friends' tense behavior toward one another.

Dr. Brennan piped up, "He seemed rather…"

"Sleazy?" Booth and Sweets said together. And for the first time, Booth looked at Bones. She almost smiled, but the corners of her mouth never quite made their full arc.

Booth clapped a hand on Sweets' shoulder, and they headed for the SUV.

* * *

Sweets, Booth, and Brennan parked a few blocks from the Royal Diner and headed toward it in pursuit of a late lunch. Given the rather awkward interactions between the partners today, Sweets guessed that Brennan had not yet talked to Booth. Lance had noticed that Brennan was usually quite speedy at following through with his advice (if not always to a tee) and took this as a sign that she was fearful of the potential outcomes of getting to the bottom of her tension with Booth. Lance hoped again that this was a sign of her growth and that maybe she was ready to connect with her feelings for Booth. But Sweets was a patient man and wouldn't push her again. Besides, he had his own problems to attend to.

In silence, the trio passed by a jewelry shop. Suddenly, Booth exhaled loudly. He tried to redirect Sweets' gaze with a lame, "Look over there!" and a gentle shove of the psychologist's shoulders, but Lance craned his neck back around toward the shop. There inside were Daisy and Wendell looking at jewelry together. The small brunette had her tiny arm slung through Wendell's burly one, and they were pointing at glittering stones that could only be described as diamonds. Wendell was gesturing in the direction of the case, conversing with the shopkeeper.

'_Could it be that they are that serious? Are they possibly looking at engagement rings?'_ Sweets gasped. He thought of his mother's ring that he had once given to Daisy, and his stomach lurched.

Lance had dug in his feet like a dog on a leash, refusing to budge.

Brennan was gazing in the window, mouth slightly agape. "There are a number of potential explanations for that…Miss Wick can't possibly be thinking about getting engaged after such a brief period of dating. She is far too rational for that," Brennan offered. But even she looked skeptical.

Booth agreed, "Yeah, Sweets. I'm sure it's not what it looks like." He gave Lance another gentle nudge forward.

Lance was numb. He felt his feet rising and falling with the help of Booth's momentum pushing him forward but couldn't speak.

They entered the warmth and bustle of the Royal Diner. "Three coffees, please," Booth ordered instantly to a waitress behind the counter and continued to guide Sweets in the direction of an empty table by the window. The diner was exceptionally busy.

Brennan was gazing intently at Lance, studying him. When they had settled, Brennan began:

"Dr. Sweets has suggested that the Jeffersonian team has a problem."

Booth seemed startled. He put down the menu he had picked up more out of habit than need, since he knew the list of sandwiches by heart. He raised his eyebrows at Bones.

"Dr. Sweets feels that the problem has originated between you and me," she continued matter-of-factly.

Booth, still taken aback, said, "Sweets should focus on his own problems." He glared at the young psychologist a little, but he didn't appear angry.

Lance's surprise from seeing Daisy and Wendell in the jewelry shop had blossomed into a state of crippling shock at Brennan's strange decision to take this up now in front of him. He didn't say anything but waited to see how this would develop.

"As much as I find fault with the process by which Sweets draws his conclusions, I think in this case he is right, Booth. Since we've returned from a year apart, things have changed," Brennan went on.

"Ok," Booth said uncertainly.

"When I left, I told you that I wasn't sure I wanted to continue in forensic anthropology. But when I was in Maluku, I realized that as much as I felt stimulated by returning to my intellectual roots, something was missing. And it wasn't just because my team didn't find what we were looking for…"

Brennan's bright emerald eyes were piercing Booth's. Lance was beginning to feel like he was witnessing something intimate that deserved privacy. Yet he remained glued to his chair, warmed by the energy that these two old friends shared. He felt the kind of elation upon locating the match to a set of favorite gloves after one had gone missing on a very snowy day. He basked in their glow.

"I missed you, Booth. I missed this team. I don't want to be anywhere but right here in Washington at the Jeffersonian doing forensics…with you." Brennan had put out her hand across the table, and Booth squeezed it tenderly.

And that was that. Lance smiled and felt that something had been restored. It wasn't the exact declaration of love he had been hoping for, but it was a declaration of love all the same.

As Booth and Brennan continued to hold hands for a long moment, Daisy and Wendell burst into the serene, warm space the three seated friends had been sharing. The mood changed in an instant. Booth and Brennan broke their grasp, and Lance sank down into his seat, hiding a little behind Booth's large body, which was conveniently blocking him from the miserable sight of Daisy and Wendell holding hands.

"Dr. Brennan!" Daisy squealed. "Can we join you? It's very crowded in here today!"

Booth nearly growled, "We saw you two at the jewelry shop just now." It was an accusation.

Wendell's smile faded slightly as he gazed at each of the faces of his seated friends. He presently realized Booth's insinuation, as each face scowled back at him.

"We were picking out a necklace for my mom. It's her birthday this week. See?" Wendell added defensively, pulling out a little satchel and from it a gold chain with a delicate, miniscule diamond pendant. "It was hard for me to afford, but my mom gets lonely on her birthday. Misses my dad," he mumbled.

Though this news cheered Sweets somewhat, Booth wasn't about to let Wendell off the hook. And for this act of loyalty, Lance found he was grateful.

"Well, as you can see, there aren't enough chairs for both of you, so maybe you should try the counter," Booth said gruffly. He nodded at the counter dismissively.

"Uh yeah. We'll do that," Wendell said, appearing flustered and upset. He and Daisy shuffled off, Daisy looking more confused than hurt. She glanced back longingly at her mentor and then listened to Wendell whisper something in her ear. In a moment, the pair exited the diner altogether.

Lance found that he was beaming. "Thanks," he said to Booth.

"No problem," Booth returned, slugging Lance painfully on the arm.

"The soup looks good today," Brennan offered, changing the subject. She was studying her menu with a slight smile on her lips.


	16. Chapter 16

Authors' Note: Both of us would like to apologize for the long delay in updates for this one. The two of us have been unbelievably busy this semester although with differing types of work...Anyway for those readers who are still following us, thank you for your support and patience. :)

We do not own Bones or any of its characters

Thank you again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It is always appreciated.

-**Peanutmeg: **The two of us are suckers for how Booth is loyal to his friends (The Babe in the Bar not withstanding). Plus we've been wanting more classic B&B moments this season, so the scene in the Diner was a treat to write. Thanks for the review -**Rankor01: **Putting aside the recent TBitB episode, we've been hoping that the writers would have scenes where B&B could really talk over what this last year or so has meant to their relationship overall...Haha, glad you enjoyed the TCitC echo. We do enjoy making references to some of our favorite Bones episodes...Sadly, the Daisy of this season really seems quite in line with how we have her in this fic. We were worried that this was the direction they were going with her character after last season's finale, and it looks like our predictions came true...But we agree that Wendell is definitely violating some kind of "guy code" by his recent dating actions and the repercussions will only continue... -**Lives in the now: **That's something the two of us enjoy about Brennan: when she makes a decision for something, she goes for it. :)...And yes, we believe that there actually is a lot of affection from B&B for their duckling, even if they don't always say it out loud...Also, we agree that, considering the insular and complicated dynamic at the Jeffersonian, it's not too out there to believe that something like this could happen...or that Wendell could be so clueless. Love can do strange things to a person...

-**D: **Well as we were saying, love can do strange things to a person. For example, we know that Booth has had some rather OOC moments himself this season in relation to Hannah. So it doesn't seem to strange to us that Wendell could be led astray...Thank you for your comments on Daisy's characterization. We wanted to keep her true to canon despite the AU direction we were going with this fic and our own personal feelings about the direction she is going on the show. As for Daisy's future on Bones, well we know that she could be getting a show of her own to work on. Hard to say how HH will deal with that on Bones... -**Sarlovesoccer: **Thanks for the review. Sorry we weren't able to fulfill the "soon" part of your request, but we hope you will enjoy this chapter. -**BonesGurl81: **Thank you. :) We try to keep things in character as much as possible even when we go off the beaten path like this. Hopefully you'll enjoy the directions we go next.

The Shade in the Heart—Chapter 16

Sweets could hear the others running behind him and instead of slowing to match their stride, the psychologist was filled with the urge to run even faster.

The last few days had been difficult, but Sweets had managed to slog through them as best he could. His workload continued to increase, and the Farber case was finally making progress, so the therapist was easily able to stay focused while at work most of the time. After watching Brennan make the first move toward rebuilding her relationship with Booth in the diner the other day, Sweets even found reasons to feel a little more cheerful while he went about his duties at the office.

All this seemed to vanish, however, in the evenings when he walked into his apartment.

Daisy had become a regular fixture at his apartment again, although these days it was to spend her evenings and sometimes nights with Wendell. Whether it was evenings of conversation and occasional movies or more intimate nights spent in seclusion with Wendell's bedroom door locked, Daisy was often there with a cheery smile and a "hi Lancelot" for him when he walked in the door.

Despite the protests from the muscles in his legs, Sweets ran faster yet. He had asked Daisy to stop calling him by her old nickname for him, and for a short time she would do as he asked, but then it would always slip out again. For a brief while, the psychologist thought that she did it on purpose as a way to maintain some kind of control over him, but then admitted to himself that it could just as easily be chalked up to Daisy's natural oblivion to certain kinds of social cues. Plus he knew that it was more than likely that she wanted him to accept the situation with Wendell and yet still hold onto some kind of friendship, thus the continued over familiarity.

The psychologist panted a little as he ran. He knew that he was spending too much time at the office as a result of offering to do extra work for the Bureau when he wasn't seeing patients or helping Booth out with his investigations. His days were only broken up by occasional meals or sleep. The only respites he had were when Booth managed to drag him out of his office for a break and training sessions like this one. Thus he pushed himself harder and harder as he swam, ran or biked, trying to ignore any external or internal pain he might be feeling.

"Hey…hey Sweets," Hodgins puffed from a couple paces behind. "Go a little easy on us beginners, ok?"

The psychologist didn't seem to hear him and continued in his fast stride. When he participated in track as a kid, Sweets relished how free he felt when he was running. Even though he knew that it was an errant wish, he fantasized about outrunning not only his classmates, but all the bad moments and feelings in his life. To this day, whenever he was caught up in the rhythm of running, that possibility of complete liberation could still find its way into his heart.

This time, however, that thought was missing from his run, and Sweets was running to find it. But even more than a sense of release, the therapist longed for something else: acceptance.

'_Daisy's moved on. She's happy with Wendell,'_ he thought to himself. '_Perhaps happier than she ever was with me. Wendell's a great guy, and he deserves this kind of happiness too. After that whole thing with Angela and the financial difficulties he's had to worry about in pursuit of his dream. He deserves a shot at a better sort of existence.'_

Sweets felt a twinge in his left thigh, but he pressed on. He had endured worse in his life and the turmoil in his mind and heart hurt far worse.

'_Daisy and Wendell are happy. Angela and Hodgins are solid. Cam has a good home life with Michelle and her relationship with Paul is going well. Things are slowly getting back to normal in the lab. And Brennan and Booth are starting to move back toward each other. Granted they are baby steps, but it's progress.'_

The twinge soon became a sharp pain, but the therapist barely felt it.

'_Everyone is moving on and recovering…except me. I'm the one who can't move forward.'_

Tears stung at Sweets' eyes although he wasn't entirely sure about which of his hurts was causing them.

'_Why? Why after all this time? Why can't I let go?'_

A sudden stabbing pain raced through the muscles of Sweets' thigh, finally stopping him. He started to fall to the ground and would have hit the pavement if Arastoo hadn't sped up and caught him before he collapsed. He helped Sweets down to a sitting position on the cool cement.

"Dr. Sweets, are you all right?" Arastoo asked as Hodgins and Wendell ran up to them.

"My leg," Sweets grimaced, hissing in pain when he tried to move it.

"Looks like a possible injury to the quadriceps muscle," Arastoo said as he watched the psychologist grasp his thigh. "We should probably get it looked at just in case."

"No, I'm fine," Sweets gasped. "It's not that bad. I'll just…."

The therapist tried to get up on his own, but fell back down with a yelp to the ground. Arastoo and Hodgins then got on either side of him, and hooked their arms around Sweets' so they could haul him up to his feet.

"Come on, Sweets. We'll take you to the doctor," the entomologist said.

"Dr. Hodgins, I appreciate the offer," Sweets said as he limped along with a great deal of assistance. "But I don't need…."

"It would be best if you went, Dr. Sweets," Arastoo interrupted. "An injury like this can be worse than it may appear to be at first."

"And more importantly, we still need you for this triathlon," Hodgins joked. "You can't quit now when I'm just getting started."

Arastoo and Hodgins slowly walked Sweets over to Hodgins' car. After helping him into the passenger's seat, the two of them got in with Hodgins driving and Arastoo wedged into the backseat. Wendell walked over to the driver's door.

"Hey did you guys want me to follow you to the hospital or…?" Wendell started.

"We've got things covered here," Hodgins said with a slight brittleness in his tone. "Why don't you take Sweets' car back to your guys' apartment? We will bring him back there later."

As the entomologist said this, Sweets fished his keys out of his pocket and handed them over to Hodgins, who tossed them to Wendell all while not taking his eyes off the dashboard.

"Ok, will do…Hope you feel better soon Dr. Sweets," Wendell said. "I'll be sure to have things ready for you at home, so don't worry about that."

Sweets nodded in response, and Hodgins started up his car and took off for the nearest hospital.

* * *

Almost three hours later, Sweets was sitting in an examination room. It had seemed to take forever to get to this point, but the therapist was glad that they had come since the pain did seem to be getting worse. Still, he couldn't stop himself from bitterly ruminating over the fact that since it was the weekend, the three of them had been stuck with going to the emergency room. Dreading the prospect, Sweets almost managed to convince Hodgins to just let him go home instead. But apparently the entomologist was already developing overactive paternal instincts and insisted on the psychologist seeing someone.

When they finally made it as far as the examination room, Arastoo sat with him while Hodgins went off to find some coffee.

"Dr. Sweets…I know that is probably not my place to comment, but I heard that you're no longer seeing Daisy Wick," Arastoo said hesitantly. Sweets sighed; he figured that everyone at the Jeffersonian knew about it by now due to Daisy's inability to be discreet about much of anything.

"We broke up before she went to Maluku," Sweets said. "Mr. Vaziri, I would rather not discuss it."

"Oh no, I had no intention of discussing that," Arastoo assured him. "Matters of the heart are best left to those closest to it. But I'm sure that all of this probably left you will a pain that is unique to loss."

The intern paused for a moment, and Sweets tilted his head, intrigued by this conversation.

"Dr. Sweets, do you know what the central theme of Islam is?" he asked.

"I know that prayer, charity and pilgrimage are pillars within your religion," the psychologist said, unsure of his answer.

"Those are very important," Arastoo nodded. "But the core theme of Islam is submission. Submission to Allah's will. Every day we must struggle to find a way past our own selfish and petty ideas and wants, putting them aside for His will."

Arastoo leaned toward Sweets, his eyes caring but reserved.

"I know that you are not Muslim, but I propose that you consider submitting your feelings to whatever higher force you may believe in," he said. "While there may be pain as a result of this change in your life, there is often a broader purpose which is difficult for us mortals to comprehend. Take solace in your friends and in the knowledge that perhaps things are moving as they should."

"Thank you, Mr. Vaziri," Sweets said with a small smile. "I will consider what you've told me."

* * *

The next day, Sweets sat in his office, staring glumly at his still aching leg. It had turned out to be a simple quadriceps strain. The doctor recommended rest and ice for the next couple of days along with telling the therapist to ease up on his training routine. Sweets found that he was able to alleviate the pain some by working from his couch, and tried to do that as much as possible that day. Currently he was sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him with his laptop on his lap and his notebooks and files in neat piles next to him on the coffee table. Even when he managed to keep his leg elevated and still, he was not able to completely get rid of the stiff, sore feeling it generated.

Sweets continued to work, but his mind kept wanting to drift off into his own thoughts about yesterday and everything else that had been happening recently. He thought again about what Arastoo had told him and was still impressed at the insight the intern had shown.

He also thought about Wendell. After Hodgins had dropped him off at his apartment, Sweets was pleasantly surprised to see that Wendell had set up a place for him to relax on the couch. He then proceeded to make him dinner, and the two of them enjoyed a quiet evening together. Daisy had not come over, and Sweets suspected that was the result of Wendell asking her not to. The therapist had derived a lot of comfort out of the peaceful night. That morning, the intern had made him breakfast as well and had dropped him off at the Hoover building so he wouldn't have to worry about driving.

After correcting his fourth typo in a row, Sweets stopped and stared at his computer screen with a scowl on his face. He knew that Wendell still felt bad about how he was taking the idea of the two of them together, and to be honest, Sweets had initially enjoyed the intern's discomfort since Daisy was still clueless to his distress. But now he was regretting making his roommate squirm.

'_Even if she wasn't dating Wendell, she would still be with someone else,' _he told himself. '_And Wendell is doing everything he can to make the best of things and to spare my feelings. I shouldn't hold this grudge.'_

It all made perfect, rational sense. Brennan would be proud of this kind of thinking. But Sweets knew that this realization didn't help to cure any of his hurt feelings or clear up his confusion.

His concentration was broken when Booth walked into his office.

"Hey Sweets, I've got Farber's science tutor, Danielle Peterson here," the agent said. "Let's see if maybe she didn't appreciate being excluded from Farber's 'social circle'."

"Sounds good," Sweets said, carefully placing his laptop on the table after saving what he was working on and shutting it off. He tried to get up with minimal struggle, but just as he was almost to his feet, he stumbled slightly, causing Booth to grab his arm to steady him.

"Are you all right?" Booth asked, concern etched into his features.

"Fine, just a really sore leg," Sweets said as he steadied himself. "I'm good."

Booth nodded, but Sweets sensed that this would not be the end of it for the agent. As Sweets limped to the interrogation room, he couldn't help but notice that Booth kept a careful eye on him the entire way.

* * *

Harding had not been inaccurate in his assessment of Danielle. She was short with sandy blond hair and sky blue eyes. Those eyes sparkled with intensity and intelligence even as the rest of her expression remained placid. Sweets was certain that she would not be easily swayed or manipulated by the usual interrogation tactics.

Booth started in on her first; going over the statement she had given to police and to the FBI while the psychologist watched her responses.

"May I ask why the FBI needs me to go over the same information that I've already stated several times?" she asked. "I mean, I can't see where this will help you find out what happened to Chase."

"It's important to you, isn't it, Danielle?" Sweets asked. "To know the truth about what happened to Chase?"

"Of course it is," Danielle nodded. "We…we were very close."

"Then perhaps you can help by telling us what you actually did on the night that Farber disappeared?" Booth said, slapping his file down on the tabletop. "We have a witness who saw you at Farber's apartment that night. And that completely contradicts what you told the police."

"No…you're lying," she sputtered.

"We have the witness statement right here," Booth said, holding up a piece of paper. "The apartment super saw you leaving Farber's place. In fact, he remembers that you appeared to be pretty upset about something."

"I….I…."

Danielle stopped and covered her face in her hands while leaning down toward the table.

"Oh God," she muttered through her fingers.

"Why did you lie, Danielle?" Sweets asked gently. "Did something happen that night? Something between you and Chase?"

"You wouldn't understand," she said, still not moving her hands. "No one else did."

"Try us," Booth said, leaning close to her. Danielle took a deep breath and moved her hands away from her face. The look that greeted Booth and Sweets was a haunted one.

"You probably know about Chase by now. Of course you would," she spat out. "How he had plenty of girlfriends around. So why would someone like me bother with a player like him? But if you knew Chase, really knew him, maybe you would understand."

"I think I understand," Sweets said, carefully placing one of his hands onto hers. "You were friends. You knew that these other women were only dates and companions, and it didn't go further than that. But even so, Chase treated them like people, made them feel special. He had a way of looking at the world that was always exciting and unique."

"He…He could always make you feel so…alive you know?" Danielle replied her eyes growing wet.

"And you wanted a part of that too," Sweets nodded. "You had been friends for a while, but you developed feelings for him. You had hoped that he had too. So you went there, that night, and told him how you felt….But he turned you down."

"I couldn't understand why," she gasped. "I thought he cared for me. I...I thought…"

"It must have been hard," Booth said. "Seeing him with all those women, and then he wouldn't give you even one date."

"See, I knew that you wouldn't understand," Danielle sneered her hands sweeping toward the agent. "So what, you think I was jealous and angry and that I killed Chase because he turned me down, is that it? Well I hate to disappoint you, but that's not what happened. I mean, yeah it hurt…a lot. But I still cared for him."

Danielle slumped back against her chair and wiped at her eyes, her shoulders drooped in resignation.

"You know what's funny about the whole thing?" she added. "Even after he turned me down, he still was trying to be my friend. Trying to say that it wasn't me and that it was because he had reached some 'major turning point' in his life."

"Did he say what this turning point was?" Sweets asked.

"No," she said while shaking her head. "Just that everything was going to change in his life here soon."

Danielle sniffed hard and swiped at her eyes again.

"Anyway, after I left Chase's, I went out with a couple of my old roommates to this bar. We ended up spending a few hours there, and I crashed with them for the night," she continued. "I can give you their names. They'll tell you that I was with them all night."

"I'll need you to do just that so we can check on your story," Booth said as he slid a pad of paper and a pen at her. Danielle nodded and began writing down the names.

"I hope you do find out who did this," she said. "Chase didn't deserve to die like that."

"We're doing everything we can to find whoever did this," Booth assured her.

"Agent Booth," she said, setting the pen down. "I know this might seem a little strange, but is there any way you could ask Tim what Chase said to him that night."

"Wait, Tim Harding, his roommate?" the agent asked.

"Yeah," Danielle said. "Chase told me that he was going to talk to Tim when he got home. Said that he needed to tell him about all this first. Why?"

Booth gave a meaningful glance toward Sweets who nodded. The agent got up and left while Sweets leaned close to Danielle again.

"Danielle," he said gently. "I think you should know that Chase cared about you a great deal. Your friendship it meant far more to him than any of those other relationships he was taking part in."

"Then why?" she almost quavered. "Why did he…?"

"Because he knew that it could never be more than friendship with you," Sweets answered. "He didn't turn you down because he didn't care about you. He wanted something more with you than what he had with all of those other women: a truly lasting and honorable relationship. It's why he didn't use the same pick up lines on you, why he didn't hit on you in the same tired way, and why he was trying to mend your feelings that night. He may not have been in love with you, but you meant more to him than just a good time and a few dates."

Danielle bowed her head and let a few more tears fall, but after only a couple moments she lifted her face back up and looked the psychologist in the eye.

"Thank you, Doctor Sweets," she said, swallowing around a lump in her throat. "For what you said."

* * *

After Danielle left, Sweets limped back toward his office. Along the way, Booth met up with him while carrying a file.

"Harding didn't mention anything about Chase talking to him that night," the agent said as he strolled with the therapist.

"You think he's hiding something?" Sweets asked.

"Maybe," Booth frowned. "Either way, it wouldn't hurt to see what Harding was doing that night."

"Sounds good," Sweets said as he opened up the door to his office. The therapist slowly and carefully lowered himself back down onto the couch and was about to pick up his laptop again when he realized that Booth was still in his office.

"You're going to tell me what happened to that leg?" the agent asked.

"It's nothing," Sweets insisted. "Just a thing from running too much. I'm fine."

"Uh huh," Booth said, sitting down in the chair across from the couch. "Running too much. Is that like how you've been putting in overtime here for the last couple of weeks? Or like how you've been holed up here in your office for hours every day without taking time for a break or to get something to eat? Sounds like there's been too much of a lot of things right now."

Sweets looked down into his lap and began twisting his fingers about.

"I…I…."

"Sweets, look the situation you're in: it's not an easy one. Not by any stretch," Booth continued. "But running yourself into the ground is not an answer."

"You're saying I should face up to all this," Sweets replied. "Accept what is and go from there."

"Something like that."

"Like what you've done with Dr. Brennan?" Sweets asked, turning toward Booth.

"What are you trying to say?" the agent growled.

"Booth…a lot may have happened while the two of you were gone, but from my perspective, it wasn't all negative," Sweets continued. "Dr. Brennan made that first step in the diner because she's sensing this change and wants to be a part of it." The psychologist turned to face Booth straight on and began to stare at him in a way that made the agent think that he was looking straight through him.

"She's not wanting to move onto something else or casting things aside," Sweets said. "She's evolving. And I think she senses that you are too."

There was a pointed silence as Booth absorbed what Sweets told him, and as the agent processed through this, Sweets thought again about his own situation.

'_Booth's right. I shouldn't be doing this to myself,' _he thought. '_After all…maybe I'm evolving too. Maybe…maybe part of moving on and accepting is not just learning to deal with Daisy no longer being a part of my life. Maybe it's also accepting the fact that I've changed too.'_

He had been so distracted by his own thoughts, he didn't notice it at first when Booth started to grin at him, but he soon caught the agent's expression and smiled back, the both of them having a notion about what the other one was thinking.

"Come on," Booth said, standing back up. "Let's grab something at the Diner. I, for one, am starving."

"Sure," Sweets smirked, pulling himself back to his feet. "Maybe this time you'll remember your wallet."

"And maybe this time you'll be walking," Booth warned him in a tone that held absolutely no threat in it.

Sweets let out a low chuckle and limped out of his office with Booth close behind him. He wasn't too concerned about the agent making good on his threat despite the nagging ache in his leg.

Because right now, he could finally feel himself pulling away from the specter of his past with Daisy and that gave him a freedom no amount of running could ever match.


	17. Chapter 17

Authors' Note: Next chapter. Again, sorry about the delay. We are hoping that there won't be too many more as we are getting close to the end of this fic.

We do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. Your support and patience are always appreciated.

-**Rankor01: **Thank you. The both of us really enjoy Arastoo's character and were disappointed that he wasn't used more this season. Thus, we knew that we wanted to include him in this fic. As to Sweets putting the kibosh on the Lancelot thing and the "date night" thing at his apartment...we've noticed that Sweets has a sad tendency to not put his foot down as much as he should. Part of us believes that it's some kind of misguided belief that he's being the "better man" somehow by not sticking up for himself while another part just believes that it's a self-esteem thing. Either way, complicated is the only way we could see something like this playing out...-**Sarlovesoccer: **Interestingly enough, we were actually big supporters of Swaisy for a while. But things changed after the Season Five finale. Seeing the way Daisy tossed Sweets aside was disheartening for us. Then her actions in Season Six only cemented our dislike for the direction their relationship was moving. Perhaps the most galling thing for us though was the fact that Daisy showed absolutely _no remorse_ for how Sweets reacted to her leaving him. While contemplating what could happen in Season Six given the finale of Season Five, we decided that it was time for events to play out the way they logically should for someone with her mindset.

-**D:** Yes, it's looking like Gallo has no TV show commitment now..Who knows what they are going to do with Sweets and Daisy's relationship now. But as for the two of us, we would like to see Sweets move on in one way or another...even if neither of us pictures this being an easy move for him to make...-**Lives in the now: **Thank you as always for the review. We agree that Sweets needs to respect himself more, but we only see that happening as he continues to improve his bond with Team Jeffersonian. We see some signs of growth in canon, but not enough in our opinion. And yes, **RT** is quite the sucker for Booth/Sweets interactions. :) Expect more before this is over...-**Writerchick786: **We are also in love with the idea of Sweets hanging out with the interns. A lot of them would actually be closer to his age than the rest of Team Jeffersonian, so it seems like a natural fit. And while it's not always obvious, we believe that if this were to happen in canon, the others would rally around Baby Duck in a timely fashion...As for Anji, ask and ye shall receive. :)

-**Peanutmeg: **Thanks for the review. We have also noticed that it seems like Sweets just can't get ahead in life. It's an ongoing struggle for him, to be sure. But we do think he finds a great deal of solace with his friends and thus we wanted to highlight that in this fic. We hope you will enjoy this update as well...-**Liron-aria:** Thank you for your intricate review. :D We are also huge fans of Sweets' character and enjoy the chance to write the stories we don't get to see about him on the show. We agree that Sweets does have a tendency to throw himself into his work, but could see the traumatic events of the Season Five finale forcing him to go on sabbatical. We also agree completely with your feelings about the Cam/Sweets friendship (we adore it) and the realistic fate of Swaisy (very unbalanced, like you said). We just hope that the next season will address both of those aspects of Sweets' character. Anyway, we hope you will enjoy the rest of this fic as we move toward wrapping it up in the next few chapters. :)

The Shade in the Heart-Chapter 17

Wendell was giving Lance a ride to the FBI, as the psychologist silently pondered the past few weeks: his leg had recovered as well as his spirits. He lightly smiled to himself, acknowledging that he could now work without flashes of Daisy's little heart-shaped face infiltrating his productive thought space.

And lately, work had involved much more than moping around the FBI, as Lance had become so accustomed to doing this past year. He was now making regular visits to the lab to check on the team dynamics. He had coffee in the break room, listening patiently as the ballooning Angela pondered a water-bath birth. ("Do you think there'd be too much carnage? Because I don't think I'd want Hodgins in the bath with me. It would ruin future water sex, you know?") Sweets then always remembered to stop by and calm Hodgins' nerves, as the entomologist contemplated the minutiae of looming fatherhood. ("What if my kid hates science? What if they want to be a—gasp—psychologist or something? No offense, Sweets.") None was taken. Lance was glad to be a part of the family again.

But mostly, Lance gently navigated the Booth-Brennan relationship. In his expert opinion that was going swimmingly. Yesterday he'd witnessed a promising conversation involving an "if we were a couple, we'd never…" scenario. Unfortunately, Brennan had concluded that sentence: "we'd never require couples counseling." But Sweets would take what he could get.

Further, today Lance had something to really look forward to: Anji was coming to town. It would require a major downer to dampen his spirits. It had been too long since he'd spent time with a really old, devoted friend. He knew he didn't have to pretend around Anji. There was no point. Nothing got past her. Now Lance was grinning broadly.

He turned to gaze at his driving companion. It occurred to the psychologist that Wendell was unhappy. For the intern's part, Wendell believed that they sat in comfortable, contemplative silence until Lance suddenly asked:

"Something bothering you, Wendell?"

The psychologist was peering a little too closely at Wendell now in a manner that Agent Booth would surely have categorized as 'creepy' had he been here to witness it.

"Why do you ask?" The intern responded.

Wendell noticed the weight of the stare without looking and almost grinned. He was getting used to his roommate's intensity when it came to observing human behavior. He hadn't really been thinking of anything in particular except the traffic in front of him. It was rush hour in DC, after all.

"You've been clenching your jaw since we got into the car," Lance explained, gesturing toward Wendell's tense face.

Wendell made a conscious effort to relax. He opened his mouth a little and rolled his head. Now that Sweets had probed, there _was_ something weighing on him. But it was completely inappropriate for him to bring up the problem with his roommate given past circumstances. _'Lance has been spending all of his time contributing to the growth of the Jeffersonian team. I've just been focusing on Daisy, who none of them really like. No one asks me to hang out anymore.'_ Wendell had to admit that he missed being part of the 'in' crowd—the guy whom everyone drank and laughed with. He felt a bit like a social outcast since he had begun dating Lance's ex. Nobody invited Daisy out after work—she was too focused on herself to really be fun.

Wendell swallowed. "I guess I've just been feeling a little isolated lately," he began, "which is my fault!" he finished quickly. "I've been busy at work."

Lance smiled inwardly: not out of spite but out of relief. He remembered feeling like he'd had to choose between hanging out with Daisy and hanging out with his Jeffersonian friends in the past. He felt for Wendell, but it was comforting to think that this was no longer his problem.

"It can be hard to balance a romantic relationship with your platonic friendships," Lance offered kindly.

"I'm not sure that's the problem," Wendell said, furrowing his brow. "But hey, it's all good. I'll be fine. You don't want to hear about this."

Sweets pointed to the side of the road. "You can just leave me off here."

"Oh sorry! I was about to miss it," Wendell exclaimed embarrassed.

"Wendell—a little advice," Lance said before exiting.

Wendell nodded eagerly.

"Don't let her pull you completely into her orbit. If you guys can find a way to revolve around a common center then that's great. But Daisy will be the star if you let her. She doesn't necessarily mean to eclipse her partner…she just consumes a lot of attention."

Wendell gazed at Lance for a moment, knowing he was right, and then replied cheerily, "Dude, what were you watching an astronomy special on TV last night? You were laying pretty heavy on the space metaphors there."

Sweets laughed. "Just make sure you carve out the room you need for you. So I'll see you and the guys at the Jeffersonian pool at two o'clock, right?"

"Yep."

"And remember, this Thursday night is when I'm picking up my British friend from the airport. She'll be staying with us for a couple of days, since she's attending a psychology conference."

"Yeah, that's no problem. I think Daisy might come over to watch a movie or something, but by the time you pick up your friend, we might already be in bed."

Lance shivered at the implication of the comment but nodded with seeming carelessness and departed. _'Will I ever get used to Daisy sleeping in a bed in my apartment that doesn't belong to me?_' he wondered. But he shook it off. That would always be a hard one. He cheered again at the thought of seeing Anji. At least he wouldn't have to face 'Dwendell' alone tonight.

* * *

Lance had gotten to the pool early and begun his workout. This would be his first swim with Hodgins, Arastoo, and Wendell, but he doubted they could sustain the workouts he could. None of them had much experience in the water, and Lance had been a swimmer in college. Muscle memory never forgets. Plus if he was already submerged, they'd be less likely to see his scars. Lance was a master at avoiding situations that brought his old wounds into the public eye.

Sweets felt a splash and noticed that Hodgins had joined him in his lane—Arastoo and Wendell had slipped into the lane beside them. Lance pulled off his goggles and greeted Hodgins, again being careful to stay below the waterline.

In the pool, Hodgins said to Lance, "Looking good out there, Sweets. I'm sorry to say, we have a visitor," he added, gesturing toward the benches near the entrance to the locker rooms. Hodgins noticed Lance's scars but didn't say anything.

Sweets glanced at the benches and to his horror saw Daisy Wick. Daisy appeared to be fawning over her boyfriend, who was splashing a bit clumsily through the water given his muscular frame.

"What is she doing here?" Lance asked in confusion as much as irritation.

"Daisy said she wanted to watch Wendell swim. He got kind of pissed at her—said training with us was his thing. But she was very persistent," Hodgins related with disgust.

"Oh…" Lance shook his head in disbelief. He splashed back into the water quickly, trying to forget that they had an unwelcome spectator. The rest of his swim went poorly. His good mood from the morning was officially killed.

Back in the locker room, Lance was standing in his underwear post shower, his towel draped over his head and shoulders as he rubbed his curls dry. The other guys were in various states of undress, teasing Wendell about his clingy girlfriend's appearance at the pool.

Lance had his towel over his face when he heard an audible gasp from the group, who abruptly stopped talking.

"Dr. Brennan!" Wendell yelped.

Lance started and dropped his towel. Indeed Dr. Temperance Brennan had appeared before him like a mirage in the Saharan Dessert…except that she was corporal in the men's locker room.

"Dr. Brennan!" Lance exclaimed in utter shock. He scrambled to pull his towel around his waist in modesty. The other guys had also tried to wrap themselves up. "It's not really appropriate to…what are you doing here?"

"Hello, Dr. Sweets. There's no need to be modest. I've been looking all over for you," Brennan said matter-of-factly.

"Couldn't whatever you want to tell me wait?" Lance said exasperated, clutching his towel tighter.

Hodgins was laughing quietly and resumed dressing. Wendell was also pulling on his pants, undaunted—this wasn't the first time he'd seen Dr. Brennan in a men's locker room. His memories of playing hockey with Booth were still all too clear in his mind. Arastoo had side stepped away into a bathroom stall. He didn't care for the thought of his boss and mentor seeing him naked.

Dr. Brennan shook her head. "No, this is about the murder investigation. If we wait, other people could die." She squinted her eyes. "Booth and I went back to Tim's—Farber's roommate's—apartment and looked around. The super let us in, but Tim wasn't there, so we left. We didn't have a warrant. But we noticed an album that appeared to contain photos of Farber's ex-girlfriends. I…happened to thumb through it while the super checked for Tim."

Sweets gazed impatiently at the anthropologist, who was taking an extraordinarily long time to get to her point. "Yes?" he urged.

"Well, Booth claimed that Tim's jealousy over Farber's many girlfriends could have been a motivating factor for murder. I find that implausible."

"You want me to settle a debate between you and Booth about a motive for murder while standing in my underwear in the men's locker room?" Lance asked in horror. In fact, somehow he wasn't surprised. He was growing annoyed that his scarred back was exposed as they had this conversation. "I agree with Booth. It's motive enough. Now if you wouldn't mind, Dr. Brennan," he finished forcefully, trying to shoo her without dropping his towel.

"I hate psychology," she mumbled as she walked away with determination.

Lance had the sense that Booth had just won a bet.

Wendell glanced up. "And I thought I had girl problems. Booth has his hands much fuller than I do, and he's not even in a romantic relationship."

"Yeah," Sweets agreed, quickly pulling on his undershirt. "I'm surprised that after all of these years, a jealousy still shocks her. It's one of the oldest motivations for murder in the book."

Wendell couldn't help but think, _'I'm glad you're not the jealous type.'_ He didn't particularly want to end up face down at the bottom of a sea cliff.

Though the Brennan encounter was ridiculous, Lance found he was oddly cheered by it and had nearly recovered from the upset of seeing Daisy at the pool. He pondered Brennan. _'She claims to hate psychology, but when looking for an answer to the dispute she was having with Booth, she sought me out_.' That seemed like a pretty hearty vote of confidence in his skills.

"We really need to find somewhere else to swim," Lance murmured to no one in particular.

* * *

It was night and finally time for Lance to pick up his old friend from Oxford at the airport. He was trying to pick out Anjali in the baggage claim crowd at Dulles Airport. Suddenly, there she was—her beautiful plume of ebony hair cascading down her shoulders. Lance noticed men staring, and he had to admit, he was a little proud to pick her up.

She'd spotted him too. "Lance Sweets!" she exclaimed jubilantly. Every syllable Anji spoke sounded joyful due to her combination of Indian lilt and British English. She kissed both his cheeks warmly, which he received beaming in her afterglow.

He babbled, "Shall we go to my car? Are you hungry? Can I take you to dinner or would you prefer to rest?"

Oddly, Lance found that the remnants of his own former slight British inflection from his time lived in London drifted back into his speech at the mere sight of her. He didn't want to sound affected and shook it off.

"My goodness, you are accommodating! I actually ate on the plane. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to prepare for bed."

Lance nodded.

On the drive back to D.C., Anji carefully broached the subject of Lance's parents, since he had mentioned their deaths in their most recent communication. "I'm sorry again to hear you've lost your parents. How have you been coping?"

When two psychologists got together there was a lot of talk of emotions, coping, and such.

"Well, I had a hard time for awhile, truthfully. But I've made some really great friends at the FBI. They're like family to me," he added proudly. Anji observed the sincerity of Lance's affection.

She noted, "But you seem a little sad?"

"Yes. My team had been apart for almost a year. We're back together now but…I was engaged to a woman who's an intern at the Jeffersonian: Daisy Wick. She's dating my roommate, Wendell, who also works as an intern at the Jeffersonian." Lance was surprised as these words came tumbling out, but it seemed natural to tell his old friend all that he had been through.

Anji widened her eyes. "Ouch?"

"No, no. I'm ok with it. My roommate, Wendell, he's a great guy."

"A great guy who's rubbing your face in your ex-fiancée moving on from you…What about you? Are you dating?"

"No, not really. I mean, it's pathetic. It's been over a year, and no dates really to speak of."

"Well, you lost something significant. What?" Anji asked, because Lance was hanging his head in seeming shame.

"Sorry, it's just, I did go on this blind date recently. I just was so…unattracted to her. I showed up late and then didn't seem to have my usual patience with her. I made up an excuse and just stood outside laughing. Am I a bad person? Have I gone completely crazy?"

"Hah! No, no. I'd say you're just not ready for cold dating. Why not wait for something more organic? You will be attracted to someone again, and then you'll _want_ to ask her out. Don't you think?"

"Yeah," Lance sighed. "I guess."

"So am I going to meet the banshee?" Anji cocked her head, mischievously.

"Hm?" Lance asked, glancing over at his friend in the passenger seat.

"You know, your ex with the perky flower name," Anji responded in mock revulsion.

"Anji! Daisy's not a bad person. She's just a bit high strung." He looked over at Anji in the passenger seat seriously for a moment, and then they both burst out laughing. It felt good to poke a little fun at Daisy and himself. After all, the situation in Lance's home had grown a little absurd.

Lance continued, "I think she'll be at the apartment when you get there. So behave!"

"I'll try. Daisy and Wendell, eh? No, I think we need to harass them a little, since they've clearly been making your life just a touch miserable of late."

"What did you have in mind?" Lance asked, a little frightened of where Anji's behemoth brain was bounding.

"Well, they haven't a clue about Robert." Robert was Anji's partner. "How about I'm not just your old friend from Oxford, I'm your old _hookup_ from Oxford in town for a conference and a good snog. What say you? Come now, Lance be game! You're always so straight-laced!"

Lance was laughing heartily now. He couldn't believe he was agreeing to this but he heard himself say, "Well, the way those two go at it on the couch all night, we're going to have to stay in my room anyway. We might as well allow them to draw their own conclusions. Will Robert mind?"

"Oh that old boy, he knows you're innocent as a lamb. Besides he's booby-trapped me so that I can't stray."

"Well, I can't blame him for that," Lance said, shaking his head. She certainly was the most beautiful woman he'd ever brought home.

Lance and Anjali entered the apartment to find Wendell and Daisy snuggled on the couch, as they so often were these days. They had the volume cranked up on "The Departed" and hadn't heard the door. Knox had, however, and came bounding to meet Lance. Lance couldn't help but feel a little touched. His trusty cat was back on his side. He picked up the little feline, who licked his master's hand with his sandpaper tongue. Anji laughed and reached out to pet the white-socked creature, which batted her playfully.

At the sound of human voice, Wendell turned down the movie and waved, so Lance and his companions advanced.

"Wendell, Daisy, this is my friend Anjali from London. She's in town for a few nights for a conference. She'll be staying in my room," Lance added, trying not to sound too suggestive.

He watched Daisy's hazel eyes survey his friend. Was that a glimmer of jealousy?

Wendell popped up and pumped Anji's hand. Daisy just forced a smile and said 'Hi.'

"Would you guys like to join us?" Wendell asked eagerly, always hopeful that Lance would demonstrate full acceptance of his relationship with Daisy.

"No thanks, Anji's tired, so we're just going to go to bed," he answered, watching Daisy's eyes grow round.

"Thank you for having me, Wendell. Daisy," Anji nodded and followed Lance to the back.

* * *

After about 30 minutes, Anji had showered, changed, and come into the bedroom, where Lance lay reading in a white t-shirt and pajama pants. His room was tiny and didn't have much to offer but a bed. She took one look at peaceful Lance and hurled herself at the bed, hitting her friend with a pillow.

"Ah! Hey, what did you do that for?" Lance demanded, pulling off the pillow.

"Oh, just giving Daisy something to be jealous for!" she giggled. Then she called loudly, "OH LANCE! YES!"

"Anji, stop!" Lance said in a fit of giggles. He shoved the pillow back in her face and they wrestled a little with it, laughing and shrieking.

Finally Anji sat back smiling, and Lance lay down with his arm under his head, staring at the ceiling.

"I'm sorry things didn't work out for you and Daisy, Lance. You're a great guy—very talented, handsome..."

Lance scoffed.

"No, it's true! You've always undervalued yourself! I'd like to see you happy with a lovely woman, who really gets you and loves your minutiae along with the grand. Because heaven knows, all humans are made up of both."

Lance smiled at her. She was nice.

She looked at him seriously, "Don't retreat into your work. It's too easy for us psychologists to get wrapped up in our inner worlds. You can't live life as a conscientious objector from reality. I know you, you'll regret it. You were always for grateful for life. Ah—you don't need to explain," she interrupted when it looked like Lance would try to speak. "Let's get some sleep now. Daisy will be nursing a raging case of jealousy by morning."

Lance knew Anji was right. All at once, he had the pressing urge to move beyond simply throwing himself back into work. There was a vast world out there with so many possibilities. Maybe one of those possibilities would include new love for Lance Sweets. He almost giggled aloud in the darkness.


	18. Chapter 18

Authors' Note: Sorry that there was such a delay. Both of us have been leading hectic lives of late, but we hope to finish this one soon. In the meantime, we would like to thank all of our readers for their patience.

We do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

-**Rankor01: **Thank you. We agree that there are many consequences for Sweets when it comes to dating Daisy, so it's no surprise that Wendell has a few of his own...As to how Brennan would respond to being walked in on, hard to say. But we do agree that there's only so long that this dance of anthropology vs. psychology can go on before it become spiteful...We also agree that Daisy often seems a little too set in the idea that Sweets will always be available no matter what she does, and the both of long for a moment on the show when she realizes how lucky she is to have some like him in her life. Even if that moment comes at the expense of their relationship.-**Writerchick786: **Anji was the creation of **Buttercups3** mainly. She has a whole host of side characters who she likes to introduce into Sweets' world here and there. The both of us, however, could see Sweets ending up with an Indian woman given the time spent in London (where there is a substantial Indian population). And the both of us would just like to see him get a better girlfriend. :)...This is also a question for us as well: do the others know about those scars on Sweets' back. You are right in saying that they have never touched on it since Mayhem and it would be interesting to see the others' reactions as well...Yeah, the both of us have noticed that Brennan listens to Sweets far more than she lets on (sometimes in a twisted sort of way, but still) and suspect that her contempt could be a sort of variation of Booth's jabs about his age. Hopefully you will enjoy the rest of this fic.

-**Chrin2009: **Thank you. We agree that Daisy has walked all over Sweets one too many times and it would be nice if she was put in her place at least once. :) We hope you enjoy this update as well.-**Lives in the now: **The two of us have often thought that Sweets needs friends like Anji in his life who are more openly supportive and who understand his pursuits more than Team Jeffersonian does. Thus, **Buttercups3** creation of Anji. Don't be surprised if Anji makes an appearance in one of our fics in the future...-**Peanutmeg: **Thanks for the review. We agree that Sweets has really been put through the wringer in this one, and that it's time that he got the upper hand. We hope you enjoy this chapter as well.-**Voiceless Night: **Thank you. Trust us we have fantasized many times about getting the chance to work on at least one Sweets-centric storyline for Bones. We hold out hope that Sweets will get a chance to shine on his own outside the unit of B&B before too long. Hee, as much as we love the idea of Sweets getting a little revenge, we could still see this being an adorably awkward moment for him. Sorry that the update took so long in coming. We hope it was worth the wait for you.

The Shade in the Heart—Chapter 18

The next morning, Sweets decided to treat Anji to a leisurely breakfast at the Royal Diner before dropping her off at the hotel that was hosting the convention. After promising to meet up with her later for dinner, the therapist rushed over to the Hoover Building to get started on his day. Sweets had just managed to go through all of the messages Becky had for him and answer a couple of emails before Booth burst into his office.

"Hey Sweets," Booth said. "We found Harding. Apparently he went off on an all-night bender about three days ago, and he has been staying in a hotel room to recover. We were finally able to catch up with him when he checked out of his room."

"Has he said anything?" Sweets asked.

"Just the usual 'get me a lawyer' bit," Booth huffed in reply. "Forensic techs are looking over his car. He had it cleaned recently, but fortunately for us, the people who cleaned it were not that thorough. Our guys were able to find flecks of blood under the passenger seat. My hunch is that that blood will be Farber's. Probably from the murder weapon."

Sweets stood up from his chair and followed Booth to his office.

"We got some more stuff from their apartment," Booth said motioning at his desk once they arrived. "Some photo albums, some framed pictures along with stuff we found from his car and over here is the stuff from his pockets that we got when we brought him in. I was hoping you could work your shrinky mojo on them."

"Why?" Sweets asked, deciding to ignore the "mojo" bit. "It sounds like everyone at the lab and the techs here have got this case sewn up."

"Here's the thing though, Sweets, I don't get why he did it," Booth said. "I mean, by all accounts, Farber was a great guy who got along with everyone. Even you said that Harding didn't hold any kind of grudge against him. And I've done some checking up on Harding…other than spending most of his time alone and falling behind on his grad work, there's nothing there that explains why he decided to bash his roommate's skull and dump him off a cliff."

Sweets nodded and began to look and the pictures, eventually picking one or two of them up to study more closely. There were few that belonged to Harding, but there were a couple that featured Harding standing with what appeared to be family and friends. His smiling face and bright eyes were a stark contrast to the dour man that Sweets had met before.

"The funny thing is…he didn't really seem all that surprised to see us when he went to pick him up," Booth added.

"Almost like he knew that you'd find him out eventually?" Sweets mumbled, still staring at the photos.

"Yeah, exactly like that," Booth said. "Part of that might have been because he thought that maybe he didn't cover his tracks that well, but…I don't know something about the way he just surrendered seemed off. Especially now with him refusing to talk. I mean, what is the point of resisting now?"

Booth suddenly halted his questions when he happened to notice Sweets' expression. The psychologist was still staring at the photographs, but now his gaze was becoming increasingly intense and penetrating. The agent then began to smile because he knew that Sweets had stumbled upon something important. After another minute, Sweets finally looked up and when he saw the grin on Booth's face, he responded with a slight smile of his own.

"Let me talk to him," the therapist said. "I'm sure that I can get you what you need."

* * *

A few minutes later, Booth stood in the observation area of the interrogation room while Harding continued to sit and stare at the table top in the interrogation room proper. Soon Sweets walked in with a couple of files and a stack of framed pictures on his arm. The psychologist sat down and carefully arranged the files and photos into neat piles before clearing his throat.

"I've got nothing to say," Harding replied, his head still down.

"Ok," Sweets nodded.

"Ok?" Harding said, finally looking up. "That's it? I figured that you wanted me to talk about stuff like 'how could I do such a thing' or that you'd try to convince me to 'give my side of the story' before it's too late or something."

"No that's ok," Sweets said, leaning back in his chair. "I'm good if you don't want to talk. I just ask that you listen to a story…more like a theory…of my own that I'd like to share with you."

"I suppose I can't stop you," Harding sighed as he slumped down in his chair. The therapist picked up the stack of pictures and turned them to face Harding.

"Here's what I think," the psychologist started. "I think that you weren't entirely aware of Farber's 'social habits' when you moved in with him, but over time you learned to adjust. In fact you had to learn to adjust because the alternative was too painful to face."

"The alternative?" Harding said, crinkling his brow.

"Yes: the alternative of facing the fact that Farber was far from alone and dissatisfied with his life," Sweets nodded. "Unlike you."

The psychologist picked up each photo one at a time and placed them in a row in front of Harding.

"Despite his somewhat spontaneous nature, Farber was well on his way in grad school and probably could have pursued a doctorate in his field," he continued. "Plus, he managed to have a very active social life with people who cared and even embraced his quirks. You, on the other hand….you were behind on your thesis work and are socially isolated for the most part. These pictures show that."

"How can pictures of me with my family and friends show you that I'm a loner?" Harding snorted. "What is this, some kind of weird reverse psychology?"

"All of these photographs," Sweets said, waving his hand over them. "They're mostly of you when you were younger and living with your parents. As few photos as you have, you mainly stick with these, probably because they remind you of a happier time in your life. These photos capture that past life…all except these two."

The psychologist placed an index finger on the two pictures that were in the center of the row he had created.

"These are recent," Sweets continued. "As shown by your university attire and current hairstyle. And both of them have the same woman in them who…."

"Darcy," Harding interrupted. "Her name is Darcy."

"Darcy," the therapist nodded. "She is special to you. Perhaps you are in love with her."

"So what if I am?" Harding shrugged. "It's a free country and it's not like I'm stalking her or anything."

"Oh I doubt that you would," Sweets said. "Darcy is clearly someone important to you, and you would never disrespect her that way. But you weren't the only person who saw how special she is, were you?"

The therapist then pulled out a tattered photograph from his jacket pocket and gingerly placed it on top of one of the pictures of Harding and Darcy. Harding's eyes widened, and he looked away with a sharp intake of breath.

"Farber also discovered how special she is," Sweets said. "That's why he fell in love with her…really fell in love with her. That's the change that he was telling everyone about in his life: that for the first time he had finally found someone whom he could really commit to."

"How?" Harding asked. "How did you…?"

"This was found wedged up in the same frame as Farber's parents," Sweets explained. "A very personal gesture. Not something he had done with any of the other girls he had dated."

The psychologist paused and watched the other man's reaction to the photograph. Harding was silent again, but his eyes were fixed on the picture. Sweets placed his fingertip near the top of it.

"That night, when Farber came to you, it was about Darcy, wasn't it?" he asked. "He had decided to tell you first about finding the love of his life because you were his roommate and his friend. The problem was that out of all the women he could have chosen, he chose the one woman who meant something to you. And after everything else you were grappling with, loneliness, pressures to catch up on your thesis work….this was the last straw."

Harding continued to stare at the photograph and gingerly traced his finger along Darcy's features. His hand turned into a fist, however, when his fingers brushed along Farber's face.

"You'd think that with all those girls in his life that Chase would be a real jerk," Harding mumbled. "And a lousy guy to have as a friend or a roommate. But you know what? He was still a stand up guy. I mean, how could a player like that be such a great guy, you know? And yet that's who he was: a great guy. It's why no ever hated him. Not even the women he went out with."

Harding relaxed his hands and ran them down the sides of his face, leaning back in his chair as he did so.

"That night, Chase said he's meet me near the cliff," he continued. "It was his favorite spot to hang out and think things through. Once I got there he told me that things were going to change soon because he had finally found 'the one'. He said that he was going to apply to this doctorial program he had been thinking about and that if he got in, he was going to ask this woman to marry him. Of course, I was curious about the woman who could actually entice Farber to settle down. And then he told me her name."

"Darcy," Sweets nodded as he watched Harding's eyes well up with tears.

"I didn't even know he was interested in her," he said. "I hadn't seen him go out on any dates with her or anything. And yet, here he was, telling me about his plans to marry the one person who I thought…who I needed….And you know, I knew. I just knew that Darcy would say yes to him if he asked. Chase showed me a picture of the two of them, and I could see that she was in love with him." Sweets pulled another picture out of his file and laid it next to the previous one.

"It was this picture here, wasn't it?" the psychologist asked.

"Yeah," Harding replied. "You got that from my wallet, didn't you? At the time, all I could think about was how unfair it all was. I don't even remember picking up that rock and hitting him with it. All I know is that one moment he was standing there, telling me how happy he was and then the next thing I know he's laying on the ground with his head bashed in. And I'm holding a bloody rock in my hands. I panicked. I shoved his body over the cliff, grabbed the rock and the photograph he had showed me and took off. A couple days later, I realized that this hadn't been the best way to dispose of the murder weapon, so I threw the rock into a lake and cleaned my car up. Guess, I didn't do a very good job."

"And the photograph in your wallet?" Sweets said. "You just couldn't bring yourself to destroy that picture…that reminder of your friend's and your true love's happiness."

"You're right, I just couldn't," Harding said softly. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for what happened. I didn't mean to hurt him, honest. I just…I just couldn't take any more. There's only so much a person can take."

"I know," Sweets said his tone somber. "When our hearts break…it can make everything else fall apart."

* * *

Almost two hours later, Sweets sat at his desk, typing up his latest report when Booth came in.

"Harding confessed to everything, and he's being processed now," the agent said. "Get this, the girl he got so hung up on: Darcy? Turns out that about three months after he had killed Farber, he finally worked up the nerve to ask her out."

"But she turned him down because she was still pining for Farber," Sweets said.

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"Just a hunch," Sweets shrugged and he got up from his chair. Booth nodded and sat down on one of the arms of the couch, causing Sweets to raise an eyebrow.

"Is something on your mind, Booth?" he asked. Booth heaved a deep sigh and slid down to sit in the middle of the couch.

"You know, usually when we catch the bad guys there's a sense of accomplishment or relief that the case is done," Booth said. "But this time, I don't know…It doesn't feel right somehow." Sweets nodded and sat down in his usual chair for therapy sessions and waited quietly for the agent to continue.

"This whole thing with me and Bones, Hodgins and Angela being gone for a year," Booth said. "I'm just not sure if we can get it back together again, you know? I don't know if we can be solid, if Bones and me and be solid, the way we were before."

Booth slumped down in his seat and put a hand to his face. Sweets watched him, his heart aching in sympathy.

'_He's worried that he's lost something important. Something that will never come back and that will always leave a void in his soul,' _Sweets mused. '_Kind of like how Harding did…or I did….But it doesn't have to be that way for Booth.'_

"Booth," Sweets said. "I know that this past year and this separation was not easy for either of you. It probably seemed like time was standing still for you while the world was changing around you with any chance of happiness starting to spiral away from you. But…I think that you will find that the same was true for Dr. Brennan. And she is probably wondering the same thing you are: did your chance to be together pass you by with all this change going on?"

Booth finally looked up at him and the therapist spread his arms out, placing them onto the armrests of his chair while leaning forward.

"I'm not saying that the two of you haven't changed over the past year," Sweets continued. "You have. You both have. But it's not necessarily the kind of change that drives people apart. It's the change the two of you needed to take your…partnership to the next level. She is ready for the next step. So are you. You just need to start talking to each other. I believe that once you do that, a lot of other things will start to fall into place."

The psychologist sat back up and lifted one forearm up so he could rest his head against a closed hand while Booth silently considered his words. After a few minutes of this, the agent nearly jumped to his feet.

"Hey, uh Sweets, Bones and I were thinking of getting some drinks to celebrate being back and all," Booth said. "You want to come?"

"Thank you," Sweets grinned. "But I promised to take my friend, Anji to dinner tonight. Maybe next time. Besides, I think you and Dr. Brennan have a lot to talk about."

Booth grinned back, and Sweets was happy to see more of the "cocky" persona return.

"See you later, Sweets," Booth said as he walked out the door.

The therapist watched him leave and was about to go back to his desk when his thoughts about the case made him pause.

'_Harding wasn't a bad person overall. He just couldn't move past the pain and unfortunate circumstances in his life. Instead of dealing with them, he found it easier to give up his locus of control and blame Farber for his problems.'_

Sweets frowned; he might not have contemplating murdering Daisy or Wendell, but like Harding, he had allowed their actions to affect his own sense of worth…to himself and to his friends.

Sweets stood and paced, his lips set into a thin line. He was angry at himself for allowing his depression and feelings of hopelessness go on for as long as they had, but he also knew that it was no good to keep holding onto all of these hurts, regrets and anger. It was time to move on, time to start anew.

It was time for Dr. Lance Sweets to live his life again.


	19. Chapter 19

Authors' Note: Next chapter. We are not sure when the next one will come up, but we hope that you will enjoy our quick (if short) update.

We do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

-**Whylime: **Thank you. We are also wishing that Bones did not have such a late start this year, but we have high hopes for the new season. Glad to see that you are still enjoying this and hope you enjoy this update.-**Lives in the now: **Thank you for the review. Despite all of the delays we have really enjoyed working together, so we are glad that our readers have enjoyed our collaboration too. :) This is the complete side of Sweets that we wish canon would go into more: the Sweets who is very talented at his job, who is a empathetic friend and a complex individual. Seems like we rarely get all three at once...As for Anji, she does make an unnamed appearance in **RT**'s The Heart in the Family story, but hopefully she will appear again in the future.-**Peanutmeg: **Thanks for the review. This was the kind of thing we were both wishing would happen during season six, but which never did...thus the chance to include it in our story. We hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

-**Rankor01: **That was also part of the appeal of Anji to us. Since she is more of a friend and also a fellow psychologist, we thought it would help Sweets immensely to be around someone who he felt he could be himself with...If you are referring to Reid from _Criminal Minds_, the two of us must admit that we are both fans. As for the inspiration for that particular scene, however, **RT** (who wrote it) actually got her inspiration from the series of interrogation scenes from The Twisted Bones in the Metal Truck from season six. The way he handled the interrogations in that episode were a great way to show the two sides of Sweets: the affable therapist who wants to help people and the somewhat tortured psychologist who can get into the minds of suspects and manipulate them into finding out what he needs to know...We agree that it would have been nice to see this kind of conversation in canon instead of non-stop Hannah and no real (in our opinion) resolution to that whole thing. The two of us are also hopeful that we will see Sweets reach epiphanies like these in canon this next season.-**D: **Thank you. We have often thought that good cases on the show help give us a glimpse into who our favorite characters are as people, so we are glad that you enjoyed the way we tied the case with the character plotlines. We agree that there is a certain synergy between Sweets and Booth (and probably Brennan too) that when they help one of the others, they help themselves at the same time and we hope that that will continue to develop in season seven. For now, we hope you enjoy the rest of this fic whenever you can.

The Shade in the Heart—Chapter 19

The day after Harding was arrested and the case was wrapped up, everyone met for drinks at the Founding Fathers. Hodgins was there with Angela, who was drinking from a glass of ice water with a twist of lemon. Cam had arrived with Paul, both of them exuberant over having a mutual night off.

Sweets had arrived alone after dropping Anji of at the airport that afternoon. The therapist had been sorry to see her leave so soon, but he had enjoyed the time that they had spent together. After walking her to the terminal, Anji had given him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"_Take care, Lance Sweets," she said. "And remember, life is meant to be lived, not to be spent curled up in fear. It should be taken with a raised head, an open hand and a courageous heart. Use your courageous heart, Lance and I am sure that everything else you need will soon follow."_

"_I will," Sweets said after letting her go. "Thank you for everything Anji. Have a safe trip and give Robert my regards."_

The psychologist stayed to watch the plane leave while observing that it was a bright, welcoming day outside with only the barest traces of clouds. Heartened by the weather and Anji's words, Sweets ended up taking the rest of the day off, treating himself to lunch and a long walk. While strolling along the streets, Sweets cleared his brain of many of the doubts and repetitive thoughts that had been ensnaring him for months.

Sitting here now, enjoying a drink with his friends, Sweets felt his heart become even lighter.

As he sipped at his beer, the psychologist saw Booth and Brennan walk into the bar to join them. Sweets noticed their happy faces, their relaxed demeanor and the significant glances that the two of them occasionally gave each other. He was certain then that the talk they had the previous night had been a productive one.

That thought produced a warm flutter in his heart, and Sweets smiled as he listened to the cheerful chatter of voices around him.

The group ordered more drinks and a couple of appetizers to share. A short time later, Booth went to the bar to get himself another beer and pulled Sweets by the arm so that he would follow him. Once they were there, the agent leaned against the bar while he waited for his drink.

"Good work on the case," Booth said, giving Sweets a gentle slug to the arm. "I was sure that this one would be over a woman, but I was worried that we would have to bring in a third of all the women in DC in order to figure this out. Thanks to you, we didn't have to."

"Thank you," Sweets blushed. He then ordered another refill of his own and watched as Booth turned to watch the others at their table.

"You know, this team, our team, we're the best," Booth said. "I was starting to wonder if…you know with me going to Afghanistan and Bones going to Indonesia…that maybe we wouldn't be the same anymore. That maybe we wouldn't be the best."

"And is it?" Sweets asked. "Is this the same? Are you the same?"

"No," Booth said as he turned back toward Sweets. "But it's like you said, maybe now it's something even better."

Sweets smiled and nodded while reaching for the drink that the bartender had just put in front of him. Booth retrieved his bottle of beer, but hesitated before going back to the table.

"Sweets, I…." Booth looked down into the neck of the bottle for a moment before looking back up. "I want to say thanks."

"Ok," Sweets said, confused. "But you don't have to. We all put in a lot of hours into…."

"No, this isn't about the case," the agent said. "Just listen. I know that you were going through a lot here recently what with that whole situation with Daisy and Wendell and your own loss. But you really came through for us. You helped us pull together even when we were unsure of things, and you helped each of us with whatever problem or doubt that was bothering us…just like you've always done."

Booth sat his drink down and reached over to clasp Sweets' shoulder firmly.

"Remember how I said that you are tougher than you give yourself credit for?" he asked. "Well you proved that over these past few weeks, but more importantly, you proved that you have a strong heart. And I know that Bones, Cam, Angela and Hodgins…and me…we are all glad that you're a part of our team."

Booth tightened his grip on Sweets' shoulder as the psychologist grinned.

"Thank you, Booth," Sweets said, struggling to keep the tears out of his voice. The psychologist felt his heart swell at the caring words that Booth had said and at the sight of the rest of his friends enjoying each other's company at the table. Still, seeing everyone paired up in satisfying and committed relationships did manage to generate an ache of loneliness.

Booth had watched the way that Sweets was staring at the others, and it occurred to him what the therapist might be thinking about. He then patted Sweets' shoulder.

"Hey Sweets, you also remember what I told Bones after that disaster with her…um, boyfriends, Mark and Jason?"

Sweets shook his head even though he remembered vividly how the anthropologist had attempted to date two men at the same time. It was hard to cast a situation like that out of one's mind.

"What I said to her applies to you too," Booth continued. "There is someone out there waiting for you. Someone who will understand and appreciate who you are. Someone you are meant to spend the rest of your life with. You just need to let go of the past and allow yourself the chance to be open to it."

Sweets smiled yet again and nodded while taking another sip of his drink. As a psychologist, he could see the wisdom in Booth's words and as a person he was thankful that there were people in his life who cared enough to remind him of such things.

Booth flashed him another grin and picked up his beer so that he could re-join the others. Sweets was about to follow him when he spotted a blond woman at the end of the bar. Their eyes met for a few seconds before she picked up her drink and moved to sit on the barstool beside him.

"Hello," he smiled at her. He looked into her eyes again, admiring the brilliant cornflower blue color.

"Hi," she said. "Look…this is really awkward, but…."

The woman paused, but Sweets made sure to maintain eye contact, silently encouraging her to continue. Eventually she took a drink and looked back over at him while starting to blush.

"I don't want you to think that I'm the type who just randomly picks up guys in bars," she added. "Oh God, I know that sounds like such a cliché, but…I saw you with your friends and you seem like a nice guy to talk to."

The woman stopped and stood up again while holding out her hand to shake.

"My name is Chloe," she said. "Chloe Egan. I…I'm new in DC and um, I could really use someone to talk to right now."

"Lance Sweets," the psychologist nodded as he let go of her hand. "And I think we could both use that right now."

* * *

The two of the settled onto the stools and talked for hours. At one point, Booth glanced over to see what was happening and grinned before putting his focus back onto the spirited conversation at the table with everyone else soon figuring out why the psychologist was not re-joining them.

Later that night, the others had gone home, and Sweets was still talking to Chloe at the bar. During the course of the conversation, he realized that she was still recovering from a bad breakup and was not really looking for a serious relationship at the moment. But that did not stop him from enjoying his time with her, and he suspected that she felt the same way.

"I've got to go," she finally said, pulling out some money to pay for her bill before standing up. "Hey, it was great meeting you, Lance. I have to say that this has been the most entertaining conversation I've ever had with someone I met in a bar."

They both laughed, and the psychologist paid his bill before walking out of the Founding Fathers with her.

"It was a pleasure to meet you as well," he said to her.

"Such a gentleman," Chloe smiled with a wink. "Well then, the pleasure was all mine."

Chloe then leaned in to plant a quick but firm kiss onto his lips. Sweets was startled, but immediately responded to it by putting his arms around her for a tender embrace. Once the two of them let go, she grinned at him again.

"Are you still telling me that you're single?" she asked. Sweets turned red.

"Um, yeah," he said.

"Well then, I guess I was just lucky to run into when I did," Chloe said as she walked away. "Because I am sure that that won't be the case for long. Goodbye and take care, Lance Sweets."

Sweets waved at her and watched her disappear into a crowd of people who were all enjoying the warm night air. He kept thinking about the night he had just had along with all of the things that his friends had said to him that day.

'_Use your courageous heart, Lance, and I am sure that everything else you need will soon follow.'_

'_There is someone out there waiting for you…You just need to let go of the past and allow yourself to be open to it.'_

'_They're right,' _Sweets mused as he fell in step with the other pedestrians on the sidewalk. '_I can't let Daisy be the standard by which I measure my worth and my ability to be in a relationship. It's time that I let my heart go where it needs to.'_

Sweets picked up his pace and took the long way to his car. He didn't want to let go of this day and was determined to take as long as he wanted to enjoy what was left of it.


	20. Chapter 20

Authors' Note: Next chapter. We hope to have this fic finished by the end of the month.

We do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

-**Sarlovesoccer:** That is all right. We have seen that kind of glitch happen on the site before. :) Glad that you enjoyed our OC and we hope that you enjoy this chapter as well.-**Peanutmeg: **Thank you for the review. We agree that while Swaisy can be cute, there comes a time when it's hard not to wish that their relationship had more substance to it. Thus, why would would like to see him move on. We hope you enjoy this chapter.-**Lives in the now: **Thank you. We often wish that Sweets had more opportunities to realize that he is very worthy of happiness and of a person who appreciates him for who he is, not what he does for others. It's a revelation we hope will happen some time soon.

**-Rankor01: **Well what else do little brothers do but annoy? :D Seriously though, we agree that, despite his mistakes, Sweets is an integral part of the team, and we do wish that he was given a little more credit for his contributions from the team beyond the old "slug-to-the-arm-good-job-Sweets" bit he sometimes gets from Booth. We've often thought that one of the major themes of Bones is how this group of flawed people create a near-perfect crime-solving machine along with a cohesive family to help all of them move forward...We figured that Sweets just isn't the type to move on right away so like you said, it's easier for him to take baby steps back into the world of dating for now...-**D: **Well we don't know if Chloe will ever appear again in any of our fics, but we suppose you never know...We can relate to your impatience with Daisy, but like you said, we do not think she is going anywhere any time soon...In spite of that, we are also hoping for growth for Sweets here soon.

The Shade in the Heart-Chapter 20

Lance swept a neoprene-covered arm across his nose. It itched. _He_ itched in anticipation of the race. The sun was marooned on the blue-pastel canvas of a cloudless morning. It was going to be hot. It already was hot, and Lance couldn't wait to get into the water. The great thing about having been a college swimmer was he knew he could get out ahead of everyone in the first few minutes of the swim. He could leave behind their uncouth splashing and glide elegantly through the water like a knife through gelatin. He pulled up the sleeve of his wetsuit and glanced at his watch: 5 minutes till race time.

His mind flitted briefly to the memory of Chloe. _"Are you telling me that you're still single?"_ She had seemed surprised. Lance glanced at a lanky, ebony-skinned woman in a wetsuit next to him, sweeping back her long, black hair into a swim cap. She caught him looking and grinned, flashing shockingly white teeth. Lance's cheeks reddened, but he smiled back. He felt like he was getting his sea legs—or maybe in this case, lake-legs—back again. He stared at the water in preparation.

So focused on the race before him, Lance didn't notice his friends who had gathered in the early morning to cheer him on, as well as Hodgins and Wendell. Last week in training, Arastoo had suffered an ACL injury and couldn't compete. Instead the straight-backed, placid intern stood at the edge of the fence smiling at his psychologist friend, thinking how impressed he'd been with Lance's perseverance this year. He admired Dr. Sweets. Next to Arastoo stood Daisy, looking slightly harassed to be out before 8am. Secretly, she longed to see Lance in action. She had her regrets, though she couldn't quite admit them even to herself. Lance looked incredibly tall and lean in his black wetsuit, zipped down just a bit at the collar.

Next to Daisy stood Angela, her stomach resembling a beach ball under her polka-dot blouse, and next to her were Brennan and Booth, both serenely taking in the bustle before the race. Anthropologist Brennan was observing the racers' various rituals—some superstitious, some like Lance, enrapt by a world completely internal. What a piece of work is man, she thought without irony. She thought briefly of the case they had just closed. Was man quintessence of dust? Paragon of animals? She surreptitiously cast a glance at her partner and smiled. She had her answer.1

Booth was also smiling but at his friend by the water. Sweets was scrawny compared to Booth's Ranger physique, and yet Booth had to hand it to the kid, he was strong at heart as any army pal he'd known. Booth felt Brennan move instinctively a little closer to the heat that emanated from his body. He glanced sidelong at her before cupping his hands around his mouth.

"Sweets!" Booth yelled heartily.

Lance glanced up at the fence, his hand shading his eyes. He recognized the voice in the crowd instinctively.

"Go get 'em!" Booth continued, and the rest of Lance's friends burst into cheers, yelling also for Hodgins and Wendell. All three racers beamed.

Hodgins and Wendell were crouched near Lance, tugging on their wetsuits nervously. Neither were quite as confident as Lance, but then again, this was their first race.

Hodgins felt a little odd deferring to the usually awkward psychologist, but found himself looking up and asking, "So what happens if you get caught in someone's wake in the water and…"

"Start to panic?" Wendell continued.

"And drown?" Hodgins added, nodding vigorously, glad that he wasn't the only nervous wreck.

Sweets just smiled lightly as the two men stood up. "You guys'll do great. You've been training for months. Just have fun. If you panic, just slow down and keep going. Keep your eye on the shore you're headed toward."

Lance looked again at the cool, blue expanse before him. He wouldn't win—the race was in Washington, DC, and some of the athletes were semi-pro. But he would do his best for Booth. He indulged in one more brief glance at the agent. A flutter in his stomach betrayed his continued desire to impress Booth. Lance shrugged a little to himself. He thought, _'Booth may be a formidable athlete, but in the water, he sinks like a stone. I'm good at this.'_

* * *

The spectators grew a bit shiftless during the swim—they could only make out the thrashing of black forms in the distance. Booth and Brennan had wandered off to get coffee.

Daisy inched closer to Angela, clearly hoping to engage her as confidant. Angela, sensing danger, inched the other direction but was walled in the by the fence.

"We're close, right?" Daisy asked Angela dreamily.

"If by close you mean literally close, then yes, a bit too much for my comfort," Angela joked good naturedly.

"Wendell and I broke up," Daisy continued in aggressive awkwardness.

"Erm, that's, uh, that's too bad," Angela searched for sympathy, but finding none, began looking desperately at Arastoo, who had ceased to listen the second the first words had exited Daisy's mouth. _'No sign of Brennan and Booth either,'_ Angela thought desperately.

"Wendell said he just couldn't dedicate the kind of time our relationship required to me anymore," the petite brunette explained.

Angela coughed.

"Do you think I'm high maintenance?" Daisy squeaked at an ear-splitting high pitch.

Angela opened her mouth, but no words came out. She tore her eyes away from Daisy just in time to catch Lance exiting from the water. The psychologist unzipped his wetsuit and slid elegantly into his bike uniform, eliciting a spontaneous cry from Angela, grateful for the distraction.

"Dang, Sweets is hot! Pregnancy hormones talking," she offered without apology to no one in particular. She hiccupped a little as she took a swig of water and tried to spot Hodgins. He was still one of the wayward black splotches.

Daisy looked a bit disappointed that her bonding session had ended so abruptly, but fixed her own eyes on Lance.

Angela elbowed Arastoo, who looked a bit embarrassed for her. "You know," she continued despite his reddening cheeks, "Hodgins told me that Sweets used to have a major crush on me back when I was with Roxy and even later when I was on that celibacy kick. Remember that? Celibacy did not suit my constitution!"

Arastoo looked even more scandalized, but Daisy's mouth hung open for a moment. Finally she said hesitantly, "But you were with Roxy when I was already with Lance. He…he didn't like _you_, he liked me."

Angela looked over at Daisy, trying to rouse sympathy but finding herself short on compassion for the intern. "Oh well, Hodgins said 'crush.' That's not the same as actually liking someone, you know."

"What's the difference?" Daisy asked, genuinely confused.

Angela looked at Arastoo for help, but he merely shrugged, preferring to watch Lance mounting his bike and kicking off.

"Um, you know. A crush is just the silly little flutter you get when you see someone you think is cute or you admire. For instance, I still get crushes even though I'm carrying Hodgins' child." Angela pinched Arastoo's cheek in confirmation, and he flushed a painful hue of crimson.

Daisy didn't look convinced. Angela herself didn't feel convinced by this explanation. She could never understand what a man like Sweets had been doing with Daisy in the first place. Sweets was young, good looking, compassionate, and sharp as a tack. Daisy was a bit of an over-puffed peacock. At that thought Angela did smile, but luckily at that moment, Hodgins splashed from the waves.

Angela mounted the fence like an enormous manatee caught in a sea net and hollered, "That's my husband! Go, baby!"

Hodgins flashed her an enthusiastic thumbs up. He had lake reeds caught in his curly hair.

* * *

Lance crossed the finish line in excellent time—better than in training. Even he was impressed with himself. He was spent but happy. He walked a little so that his muscles didn't cramp up. A nearby medic offered him a water, which he poured over his head with exuberance. Booth and Brennan were suddenly upon him.

"Nice one, Sweets!" Booth clapped him on the back.

"You appear to be quite fast for an amateur," Brennan said encouragingly.

Lance shook his head a little at Brennan but thanked them both. The rest of his friends (and Daisy) had also appeared, smiles on their faces. Lance beamed with pride at their congratulations. Then someone unexpected caught his eye beyond his friends—

"Donna!" Lance cried, surprised he even remembered the name of his ill-fated blind date. He saw Daisy's cheeks flush, as he ran over to the petite blonde. It was immediately apparent to him that Donna had beaten him in the race. She seemed positively relaxed and rested, as if she'd finished ages ago. No longer was she the awkward, dull mouse he had so desperately desired to escape from at the Founding Fathers. She looked muscular and confidant in her running gear. Sweaty but attractive. In her element. He smiled from ear to ear as he surveyed her transformation, and she matched his radiance.

"Good race?" he asked.

"Great race!" she chirped.

"You must have been really fast…you don't even look tired anymore," he observed.

"This is what I'm good at, Lance," she responded—not arrogantly but matter-of-factly. "Not meeting in bars." She frowned a little at that.

Lance flushed a little at the memory of excusing himself so hastily from their date.

"I'm in the Olympic trials for women's triathlon," she finished.

"Wow," Lance replied, genuinely impressed. "Congratulations." He shook her hand, feeling almost proud to know her.

Donna was suddenly swallowed up by her adoring fans, who, by the looks of it, were related to her. Lance felt an elbow suddenly lean on his shoulder. It was pregnant Angela. He saw polka-dot stomach before he registered her face.

"So…wasn't that…?" she began.

"Yep," Lance confirmed.

"Hey, she isn't as bad as you made her out to be! I'm not that bad at arranging blind dates," Angela huffed.

Lance looked down at her. "Well, she's much improved in this context."

Angela looked sideways at him. "I suppose we all are at our best in certain contexts. Though…not sure we've found Daisy's proper context yet," Angela finished, lifting up her leg and taking off her shoe to empty a rock. She leaned on Lance like he was a railing.

Daisy was engaged in an ear splitting high-pitched cackle at something Brennan had said. Brennan looked vaguely mortified, while Booth simply seemed grumpy. Angela and Sweets held each other's gaze for a long moment, and then burst out laughing.

"Look, here come the other troops," Booth called, nodding toward the finish line at a very winded Hodgins and Wendell.

Hodgins gasped, "Never again. I'll leave racing to the youngsters." Hodgins glanced at Wendell, who was doubled over and panting. "Youngsters like Sweets, that is. Did you even break a sweat?" he glared at the psychologist.

"Hey, congratulations on your first race, Hodgins," Sweets held out his hand, instead of answering Hodgins' question. Hodgins grabbed the hand and pulled Lance down to the ground. He proceeded to sit on the psychologist.

"Akkk!" Lance complained. "You've smelled—ouch!—much better, Hodgins," he whined as Hodgins' elbow ground into his side. Sweets tried to turn away from the post-race odor.

"Dog pile?" Booth suggested, shrugging. He dove on top of both the doctors.

Wendell then threw his exhausted body on the top, rather like a cherry on a sundae.

Brennan glanced around and then, much to everyone's surprise, shouted, "DOG PILE! Whatever that means…" and flung herself on Wendell's vulnerable head.

"Arggg!" came a chorus of yells beneath her, but she grinned triumphantly, somehow managing to appear prim atop a sweaty pile of man flesh.

Daisy looked at Angela, mouth agape, and the artist simply shrugged. "I love this team," she said wistfully. Then with more focus: "When's lunch?"

1. See Hamlet Act 2, scene 2, 303–311


End file.
